[FanFic] 1762: Extranjero (Stranger) (3.01/3)
Title: 1762: Extranjero (Pt.03.01 - Return)
Pairing: OC!PH-tan (my oc salome, hurr) x America (Alfred Jones)
Characters: Colonial!Tsundere not-so-bad ass Admiral Arthur / OC!Piri and a clueless ALFRED
Warning: My excuse for another extended chapter: pages went past my quota this time :| the next update will be the last one. I swear.
Part 01 - here (present period)
Part 02.01 - here (carriedo’s flashback)
Part 02.02 - here (iggy’s bad assness flashback and narrative)
--
Devastated is an understatement to describe Arthur Kirkland when he learned that the letter en route to his rival has already been sent and can no longer be stopped. He got a reputation to uphold as a European super power and the letter just proves for someone so ‘advanced’ and ‘well-learnt’ he didn’t do enough research.
Well it’s not his fault.
Everybody got secrets.
But still!
Dawson, along with a handful of the redcoats who just arrived, watched helplessly in the meeting room at the sight of their flustered admiral losing his marbles. He have been like that for the past few days. Arthur is still talking to himself trying to sharpen his linguistic skills while at the same time holding the small painted portrait near him, muttering how Carriedo tried to make a fool out of him. He must know the enemy’s tongue well lest he wants to get embarrassed again.
If anything, as a gentleman, Arthur won’t attack as brazenly as he did, nor will he fire rounds indiscriminately to coax someone out in a hiding if he only KNEW it’s a young growing lady. Oh god he feels like a brute right now.
“Won’t we stop him?” one of them whispered, “At this rate he is going to strip himself down to his unmentionables.”
“I heard THAT, soldier!” he growled, causing both men to jump a little. “-and why is everyone here? Secure the whole area!”
“We still cannot find him, Admiral Kirkland, Sir.” One of them called out. “We tried everywhere-“
“It’s a HER!”
“A her?”
“Do you all have to bloody repeat everything damn word I say?” he snapped, his 5’oclock shadow prominent as he have been holed up in the meeting room for days. “Yes, Filipinas is a woman!” He tossed the painted portrait to the nearest among them. “That bloody pervert almost tricked us in believing that all this time Filipinas is a boy. I want every man in this unit to comb the entire city and find this young lady, and do NOT come back until you find her.“
Hesitation is written all over their faces, the archipelago after all is a new land they have yet to get used to. The marines are not used to the country’s sudden drastic climate changes---it will rain heavily for a few days, then suddenly it will be scorching hot and the air becomes hot and heavy. Combine this with the heat and humidity that comes naturally in the tropics and this could easily have taken a toll in a man’s health, especially to Arthur’s well-being. The admiral was constantly flushed, sweaty and irritated ever since they have arrived in the archipelago’s soil.
“THAT’S AN ORDER!”
The men quickly scrambled to their feet and ran, barking orders as they do.
“Sir, if I may, don’t you think it’s a little--?”
“Drastic, Dawson? Not at all.” He cuts off, “It’s only just about two weeks, she couldn’t have gone that far.”
“But she can be anywhere within this archipelago, admiral sir!”
Antonio is wise enough to have a back-up plan in case of an impending invasion, surely he also have one to ensure that Arthur can never take hold and have any influence over his ‘only daughter’.
Maybe he will ‘talk’ to the incumbent gobernador-heneral, it was him after all who blocked his efforts in taking over the entire territory. He probably knew of Antonio’s plans.
But men can lie-and Arthur does not have time to beat around the bush. The citadel. It will probably give him the clues he needed on Flipinas’ whereabouts. The residents can make stories, lie through their teeth, but physical evidence is one thing that cannot be tampered that easily.
Arthur Kirkland knew they have missed out on something.
“-or maybe within this house.” He replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He finally regained his composure and his eyes drifted towards the stairs outside leading to another floor. “Say, don’t you find it strange for a big cabinet of porcelain plates to be placed on that wall?”
--
“Uhh…”
Alfred opened his eyes, trying to adjust them to the strong sunlight, which is slightly obstructed by the large swaying branches and leaves.
That’s strange…his last memory is falling down the ground after a strange girl attacked him with a rock. Where is he…
He looked down.
He was several feet from the ground.
Alfred let out a surprised yelp upon discovery and almost fell off the tree’s branch, if not for someone who suddenly grabbed him behind his ponytail.
“Stay still!” she hissed, “Don’t move, extranjero! Do you want to die?!”
He frowned, prying the hands off from his precious dark blonde hair. “I’m not a stranger, I have a name, thank you very much!”
“You understand me?”
“Of course I do!” he snapped, “I live approximately near to this loud, tequila drinking-“ his voice trailed off. Alfred turned around to see who he is talking to, something he should have done earlier. It have become a bad habit for him to talk first before thinking of the situation and it have gotten him in trouble more than once.
In front of him he is a young female with golden sun-kissed complexion and wide-round deep brown eyes. She have a thick mass of hair as dark as the night, tied roughly in a bun to prevent the tresses from falling down to her back. She is dressed like the women in the rice fields he saw in Arthur’s journals of “Filipinas”-when he sneaked in the cabin to forage for food while he was still hiding in the ship at that time. Her clothing consists of a patterned skirt hiked to her knees and strange elbow-length puffy sleeves made of a near translucent material.
Near-translucent material…
They made those as outer garments?!
He narrowed his eyes and crawled closer to her, wondering if she is wearing something underneath the stiff fabric. She instantly blushed. It’s the first time a man advances to her without saying a word, without even asking permission for her hand-the only part of her body that the opposite sex is allowed to touch. And she knows how her Papa will raise hell if somebody goes beyond that point. When he tried to touch her top, she quickly slapped his hand.
“Ow!”
“How dare you! I don’t even know you!” she cried, holding onto to her chest tightly, blushing. “Señor, where are your manners!”
Alfred felt kicking himself-for acting again out of impulse, of course what WAS he thinking! She is a young lady! Arthur have taught him better and drilled him several times about proper conduct, especially when it comes to women. He really didn’t mean to make a pass on her. He raised both palms and tried moving back, trying to let her know he didn’t mean to. But she is a feisty one-and Alfred watched in horror as she grabbed some of the yellow fruits from the tree and starts to hurl one at him.
“I’m sorry! Ow!”
It was then he remembered one of Arthur’s lectures, something he fortunately recalled at that moment.
“A true gentleman knows when to back down.” Arthur said, “When apologizing to a young lady after a heated argument, the key is you must say these three important words and she will then accept your apology.”
“Oh, I think I know!”
“No, you git! Not those three words!” Arthur snapped, “It’s-“
...
“I was wrong!” Alfred cried out, shielding his face with his arms, “I was wrong! I don’t mean to offend you! I’m sorry!”
The hurling stopped, and he peeked with one eye. She is breathing heavily, exhausted but she have started to calm down. In what seems to be an eternity, none of them said a word---they were staring at each other, observing the other, waiting for one of them to talk.
Alfred felt she resembles slightly someone he knows from memory, something he used to hear and see from the ‘bed time’ stories Arthur used to regal him as a child.
Salome felt that the blue-eyed young man in front of her have some importance-she does not know what it is, but it’s just a hunch that she felt the moment she realized he is not the ‘white devil’ her Papa speaks of. He however shared some physical attributes, the dark blonde hair and the fair white complexion. She have seen some of the soldiers in red coats having the same kind of skin shade, and like most of them-this ‘white man’ in front of her is getting flushed and sweaty with the heat and humidity of the tropics.
He is probably wondering how she can take it.
“Oh! How rude of me…m-my name is Alfred. Alfred Jones.” He finally spoke “I got curious on what you are wearing, I don’t mean to-I don’t mean to touch your…!”
“I-it’s all right,” she stammered. “You must be very hungry, Señor Alfred” she tossed a mango in front of him and he nearly jumped. He then reluctantly took the fruit “-they said heat and hunger can make you do crazy things. You are new here, you are not used to my weather and you are running like a loco when you saw this tree. You are one of them, aren’t you?”
“Hold it right there! *chomp* One at a *chomp* time!”
She sweat dropped, in mere seconds, Alfred was halfway gnawing the fruit.
“Señor! You don’t eat the skin!”
“You haven’t told me your name yet-“ he wiped his messy mouth, full of the yellow sticky nectar. He spitted the skin out. “-and you are from here, you think I’m the enemy and yet you saved me and kept me here. Why?”
“I’m the one who asked the questions first!”
“And I don’t know who you are!”
“Señor, if you didn’t start by attempting to grope my vital regions and introduced yourself earlier then we wouldn’t be in this confusing predicament right now!”
“Well, if you didn’t attack a helpless half-starved man with a rock then I should have!”
Silence.
They both sighed heavily.
Alfred is still making a ridiculous smacking sound as he nibbles the fruit to the bone. Salome wondered when is the last time the man have last eaten.
And for Alfred, he can almost hear Arthur lecturing him again about proper etiquette.
“Young miss,” He almost cringed at the formality, “My own homeland is in a state of confusion right now, I want to get my head out of it for a while and I thought escaping to one of my dad’s seafaring adventures might just be something I need to unwind. I regretted that. It’s so hot in here!
“Your father-“ her eyes widened, “Is he a blonde man with fuzzy eyebrows? Like caterpillars?”
Alfred nearly choked on his nearly finished mango. He looked up at her; remembering her words when he knocked him out cold. She accused him being Inglaterra-England.
“Yes he is. Thought me everything I know, he raised me. You called him by his Real Name when you knocked me out cold. You know him?”
She gave him a hard glare. But how can one stay angry to this handsome young man, who is staring back at her with those wide clueless blue eyes?
She blushed again, realizing she is staring at him longer than she thought she would. She is allowing herself to be distracted by the opposite sex’s features and it will let her mind fester with ‘indecent thoughts’-or so her Papa always tells her. She is not allowed to look at any man in a certain period of time if he is not properly acquainted to her. If he is going to have his way, he will force her to go a confession.
But Papa is not around.
Shifting awkwardly, she silently observed him as he finishes his mango. This stranger-this Alfred F. Jones, is the son of the man who have invaded her homeland, her father’s long time rival-they call him Gran Britannia, Inglattera-and in his other name, Arthur Kirkland.
She swallowed hard, “My Papa knows him.”
Alfred threw the gnawed mango seed to the ground much to Salome’s irritation. He starts wiping his hands to his shirt and is making a mess of himself. “Wow! What a small world, huh? So what’s your Dad’s name? They might be friends or something!”
“I will tell mine if you tell me yours first!”
Alfred frowned at his white shirt stained with the sticky mango nectar. “Arthur. Arthur Kirkland...” he mumbled, and he starts slapping his neck and other parts of his body. “Dear Lord! Mosquitoes! I never see them this big!”
Salome sighed, mosquitoes. Even her Papa considered it as the bane of his existence as the annoying insects seem to swarm around new comers. The locals never had much trouble with the little pests.
“So how is he like?” she asked bravely, “This Señor Kirkland?”
Alfred tried to balance himself as he smacked a big one on his arm. He is obviously too distracted. “Hmm where do I start-he is pretty okay I guess, he is all about refinement, culture, industrial progress whatever. He considers this as a big advantage over his rival nations-they use to make fun of him when he is little and now he is kicking their butts at every chance he gets!”
“How about women?” she asked, her tone worried. “Do he also-kick their butts?”
The blonde let out a loud whooping sound that nearly sent him slipping from the branch. Salome instantly grabbed him by the arm and helped him up, their hands met, and their faces, few inches shy away from each other. They quickly perked up, Alfred starts scratching his head in an awkward manner, letting out an uneasy laugh as the Filipina blushed once more, recoiling both of her arms once again back to her chest. She starts to fiddle with her scapulars.
“No-uh, no he won’t! He prides himself as a gentleman, he can’t bring himself to! It won’t be fair!” and he made a silly grin. “He can be tough in the outside, but give him some ol’ puppy eyes and he’ll melt in the inside like butter on fresh toasted bread.”
Mmm…bread. How Alfred starts to miss actual food back home.
He then perked up and looked at her suspiciously “You haven’t told me who your dad is.”
But Salome wasn’t listening to him, she turned her attention towards the ground and at the outskirts of the woods-there is a nearby barrio several feet from where she was. She can see the red coats, they are inspecting every house and any possible area where she could be hiding. Hell, one of them is even wallowing in the pigs feed as the locals looked at them strangely than in fear-as if she CAN hide at where the pigs are eating. The one leading the pack was wearing a blue coat and was scanning the surroundings as he stood at the middle of the muddy road
“Search every home, don’t leave any single bloody rock unturned!” the man in blue barked orders. “I don’t care if you get your hands dirty with those pig’s filth, private! She can be hiding anywhere!”
“Oh dios mio!” she cupped her mouth. They already knew who she was.
“Miss-“ Alfred tapped her lightly on the shoulder, his expression serious. “You said your father knows mine. Who is your father?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
“Come out, come out my bonny lass! I know you are out there!”
Arthur Kirkland is advancing faster than she thought. He could see her in the open any moment now.
“Miss-“ he tapped her again, oblivious of the impending danger. “Who exactly are you?!“
“Keep it down, Señor!” she covered Alfred’s mouth, but her eyes are glued to the advancing officer. The man is slightly disheveled and unlike his subordinates he is not wearing a pompous white wig. Squinting slightly as Alfred struggled within her grip, she tried to focus on the man’s face-and saw it, thick eyebrows that seems like resting caterpillars and green emerald eyes just like her Papa’s. “Do your Papa know you are here?”
“Ummff-no!”
“Then stay put!”
Salome quickly shoved him deeper within the tree’s branches as Arthur turned his head towards her direction, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. Salome was about to follow suit and hide herself, but Arthur quickly spotted her.
“Filipinas!”
She froze. Arthur saw her and called her by her real name. His loud baritone voice catches the attention of the rest of the soldiers who all quickly followed his lead. She can see the local townsfolk attempting to stop them, but it was a futile effort-the redcoats are superior in arsenals and in number.
In matter of minutes, they already have surrounded the mango tree where she sat, all their rifles pointing at her. She tried to avoid glancing at the handsome stranger gawking at her deep within the leaves and the branches.
Arthur moved closer than the rest, commanding his men to lower their weapons. Salome frowned beneath her; she and her Papa’s archrival are now finally meeting each other face to face.
She hated him. She got caught in a war that is not of her own liking-this man declared war against her Papa and because of him he had to leave her again-ironically leaving her vulnerable to this diablo’s attack.
He was looking intently at her as she was to him, ingraining carefully in their memories the face of one another, that of the captor and the captive. Salome wonders if he gets any sunlight at all, his pasty complexion was noticeable despite his flushed coloring-he is not used to the humidity of the tropics. He didn’t possess the boyish looks nor the charisma his son had, and in her standards, not entirely that handsome.
And in turn, Arthur finds her a little small for her age. For the past few days, he gets to observe the local womenfolk and they all behave conservatively like their cultured European counterparts. It was like he can almost taste the culture that Antonio have drilled to his young colony and expected her to behave as such. So it was quite a surprise to find her in a farm girl’s attire, barefooted, clinging unto the mango tree like a monkey and glaring hard at him. It was that hateful expression that she strongly resembles her Father.
“I will get back at you, you bastard!” Antonio will scream at him after sustaining a massive lump on his head after a major defeat in battle. “I will get you for this!”
Arthur strode underneath her, placing his hands over his hips. Having polished his Spanish, he faced her confidently.
“There is no mistake, you are the Sun’s child, Filipinas.” he said, and then asked “ Then it’s true, you are Carriedo’s-unica hija?”
He was greeted with a mango hurled on his face. The impact almost sent him hurling down the ground.
His men starts to point their rifles back again, and Arthur stopped them once more. His face was red, he almost choked---that misfit almost broke his nose!
“That’s it!” he shouted angrily, throwing his glove on the ground. “I tried reasoning with you! I’m getting my men to bring you down here this instant!”
“You can’t make me!” she cried, her face flaring up. “My Papa will get back at you, you white devil! I hate you! You and your hideous caterpillar eyebrows!”
“I’m what?!” his eye brow twitched, he is very certain that the wanker have told her about him. Some of the men who understood her tried to suppress the urge to laugh. “Goodness, you are your father’s daughter alright! You both just don’t know when to give up, do you?”
“You already have my home!” she cried once more, but her tone was not scared-she was angry. “What more do you want? Why don’t you just take what you need and leave? Just leave!”
“You know it’s not going to be that easy, Maria.”
“Do not call me Maria! Only Papa can call me Maria!”
Arthur felt a strong wave of migraine coming. He facepalmed. Women. How can Antonio even stand this?!
“Young lady, your father is no longer around here and I’m the next best damned thing as a father figure you are going to get. So whether you like it or not, I’m NOW THE ONE IN CHARGE and I’m going to do whatever is bloody necessary to get you down that bloody mango tree so we can settle our issues once and for all!”
She made an angry sound, “So I can be your captive? No!”
He facepalmed once again. How can he explain this? True, the young colony is under his jurisdiction right now, he already holds her vast resources, but that does not mean he will come down to her like the colonizers of the old and treat their captives like dirt. In return for her rich supplies, he can teach her a thing or two about his culture-it will be a beneficial relationship.
“Well as strange as this might sound, yes you are.” He reasoned. “But that does not mean I will treat you like a slave, we are civilized men, we are not some primitive monsters like your Father have probably lead you believe. I can teach you a thing or two about my culture-it will be a beneficial relationship for both of us.”
He frowned a little; the information is probably too much for the young Salome. “You understood what I mean right?”
“LIES. I don’t believe you!”
“Maria, it will be simpler if you just come down so we can talk this over!” he growled, his patience is wearing off.
She starts to teeter at the branch of the tree. “W-what are you doing?!”
“I’d rather die than get caught!” she screamed, “You couldn’t care less now since you already have what you wanted!”
She was testing him. She puffed her face, pretending she is in-between pretending to cry or about to scream-similar to the tantrum fits that she throws to her Papa if he tries having his way.
He prides himself as a gentleman.
He can be tough in the outside, but give him some ol’ puppy eyes and he’ll melt in the inside like butter on fresh toasted bread.
“Don’t you even dare do this to me, young lady!”
If Arthur Kirkland is really a man of his word…
“Sir! She is-! She is going to-”
“Maria, STOP!”
If he is a true gentleman, a civilized individual, that he will look after her despite the situation they are in-
The redcoats gaped as she stepped backwards, letting herself fall--
“MARIA!!”
Arthur leaped forward, throwing himself to the ground, stretching his arms and catching her just in the nick of time, rolling down the wet grassy ground as he held on her in a protective embrace. They continue to roll until there was a sickening thud. Arthur finally hits a tree, causing him to finally abruptly stop-his eyes spinning spirals. She thought she have killed him.
Oh dios mio…
At the corner of her eye, she can see Alfred’s head peeking out, gaping. She gave him a quick glare shot and he quickly went back to hiding.
Recovering from the impact, Arthur dusts himself, his face was flared up and his green eyes glaring down at her hard.
“Y-YOU! Y-you-”
This time she is now really scared, Salome have seen that dark expression before, and those angry green eyes-with Papa. He had no qualms hitting her when she was younger if she misbehaves. And Señor Kirkland got hurt because of her antics. She has gone way too far this time.
Acting out upon reflex, she quickly shielded her face with her arms.
“-You don’t do that again! Don’t ever DO THAT AGAIN!” he scolded her, his tone upset.
He will hit her and she knows it, the fear has unearthed her traumatic memories. “No, Papa! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” she starts to cry, “I don’t mean to, Papa! Don’t hit me, please!“
Arthur was surprised; did he really think he would hit her?
Damn you bloody tomato bastard, how exactly did you raise your daughter?
The Englishman gently enveloped her in his warm embrace, causing her to jump a little and stiffen up. She didn’t expect comfort from the man her father warned her about, the white devil, Arthur Kirkland. After all, all her superiors told her nothing but tales of his centuries-long rivalry with her Papa, his superiority in naval warfare and his continuous conquest on seizing others territories.
The fair-skinned extranjero, his runaway son named Alfred however, painted him in a different picture. For the few minutes they shared, he talked about him greatly.
Alfred Jones is fortunate to have a tough yet understanding father.
“-You foolish child. I won’t hurt you.”
Arthur keeps re-assuring her with those words until she gradually relaxed in his arms. As she does, he stood up and gently carried her, her face still burrowed lightly on his chest. She felt so embarrassed, for a grown man to see her cry-screaming for her father not to hit her. He was not supposed to know.
He then calmly instructed his men to fetch him a carriage quick so they can ride back to the Casa. It has been an exhausting day. Who knew the Sun’s child can be such a handful? There is so much fire in her, a stubborn independent streak-if properly nurtured will prove to be a strong asset shall she grows to be, god-forbid, a nation independent from España’s possessive clutches. It’s not meant to be stoked, as he realized that’s how Carriedo raises his children. The more he suppressed that fire, the more they will rebel and the more they will struggle for their independence.
Good lord, she reminds him of that inconsiderate upstart he left half-way around the world.
--
Later that Evening
Alfred is still up among the branches of the mango tree, slapping the mosquitoes swarming around him, he cannot believe what he just heard that afternoon-his mind is still racing.
That young lady is Filipinas? Antonio Carriedo-his father’s arch rival, have a daughter colony? Even he knows that the Conquistador is known to have only but sons.
He never got her name.
But he definitely knows they will see each other again.
Because somebody have to get him down the goddamn tree!
“H-help! Anyone?” he squeaked. “Wait, I think this is not a good idea…”
==
TO BE CONTINUED
again (sob)
Well that took me long to update >_> I have some case of writer's block and my sibling won't leave me alone as I type (annoying little sisters... *stabs* why can't they just mind their own business. srsly.)
I just think Iggy needs a little closure and I didn't expect the drama so...I cut it again so the ending will be devoted exclusively to Piri x Alfred...
Also THIS DOUJIN PROJECT THNGIE STILL ONGOING. (Seems like it's most likely I will extend the contribution thing, but the way I see it...it seems I have to do everything myself and POKE people for their art. The main artist thing is due at the 30th of this month though or you can combine both idkkk :D)
-+-
I will also finish this asap as soon as I get this 2-part fic request 'one-shot' finished this HOLY WEEK. It's haunting my muse for weeks now. *distracted*
Cockteaser:
She trembled slightly, swallowing hard as she mustered the strength and finally looked straight up to him: His expression is unreadable-it was calm, and Maria knows he is trying everything in his power to restrain himself from tearing her to pieces. He was flushed, his lower jaw was taut and it was his eyes-those eyes-it’s within those burning green depths that his emotions finally betrayed him.
There is nothing in there but cold-hard contempt-and something else so chilling and she can’t fathom what it is. She breaks into cold sweat and her heart starts to race as Antonio approached closer to her and she can’t tell what he is going to do: When angered, he becomes unpredictable.
Bound to be revised idk. YANDERENESS,
Pairing: OC!PH-tan (my oc salome, hurr) x America (Alfred Jones)
Characters: Colonial!Tsundere not-so-bad ass Admiral Arthur / OC!Piri and a clueless ALFRED
Warning: My excuse for another extended chapter: pages went past my quota this time :| the next update will be the last one. I swear.
Part 01 - here (present period)
Part 02.01 - here (carriedo’s flashback)
Part 02.02 - here (iggy’s bad assness flashback and narrative)
--
Devastated is an understatement to describe Arthur Kirkland when he learned that the letter en route to his rival has already been sent and can no longer be stopped. He got a reputation to uphold as a European super power and the letter just proves for someone so ‘advanced’ and ‘well-learnt’ he didn’t do enough research.
Well it’s not his fault.
Everybody got secrets.
But still!
Dawson, along with a handful of the redcoats who just arrived, watched helplessly in the meeting room at the sight of their flustered admiral losing his marbles. He have been like that for the past few days. Arthur is still talking to himself trying to sharpen his linguistic skills while at the same time holding the small painted portrait near him, muttering how Carriedo tried to make a fool out of him. He must know the enemy’s tongue well lest he wants to get embarrassed again.
If anything, as a gentleman, Arthur won’t attack as brazenly as he did, nor will he fire rounds indiscriminately to coax someone out in a hiding if he only KNEW it’s a young growing lady. Oh god he feels like a brute right now.
“Won’t we stop him?” one of them whispered, “At this rate he is going to strip himself down to his unmentionables.”
“I heard THAT, soldier!” he growled, causing both men to jump a little. “-and why is everyone here? Secure the whole area!”
“We still cannot find him, Admiral Kirkland, Sir.” One of them called out. “We tried everywhere-“
“It’s a HER!”
“A her?”
“Do you all have to bloody repeat everything damn word I say?” he snapped, his 5’oclock shadow prominent as he have been holed up in the meeting room for days. “Yes, Filipinas is a woman!” He tossed the painted portrait to the nearest among them. “That bloody pervert almost tricked us in believing that all this time Filipinas is a boy. I want every man in this unit to comb the entire city and find this young lady, and do NOT come back until you find her.“
Hesitation is written all over their faces, the archipelago after all is a new land they have yet to get used to. The marines are not used to the country’s sudden drastic climate changes---it will rain heavily for a few days, then suddenly it will be scorching hot and the air becomes hot and heavy. Combine this with the heat and humidity that comes naturally in the tropics and this could easily have taken a toll in a man’s health, especially to Arthur’s well-being. The admiral was constantly flushed, sweaty and irritated ever since they have arrived in the archipelago’s soil.
“THAT’S AN ORDER!”
The men quickly scrambled to their feet and ran, barking orders as they do.
“Sir, if I may, don’t you think it’s a little--?”
“Drastic, Dawson? Not at all.” He cuts off, “It’s only just about two weeks, she couldn’t have gone that far.”
“But she can be anywhere within this archipelago, admiral sir!”
Antonio is wise enough to have a back-up plan in case of an impending invasion, surely he also have one to ensure that Arthur can never take hold and have any influence over his ‘only daughter’.
Maybe he will ‘talk’ to the incumbent gobernador-heneral, it was him after all who blocked his efforts in taking over the entire territory. He probably knew of Antonio’s plans.
But men can lie-and Arthur does not have time to beat around the bush. The citadel. It will probably give him the clues he needed on Flipinas’ whereabouts. The residents can make stories, lie through their teeth, but physical evidence is one thing that cannot be tampered that easily.
Arthur Kirkland knew they have missed out on something.
“-or maybe within this house.” He replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He finally regained his composure and his eyes drifted towards the stairs outside leading to another floor. “Say, don’t you find it strange for a big cabinet of porcelain plates to be placed on that wall?”
--
“Uhh…”
Alfred opened his eyes, trying to adjust them to the strong sunlight, which is slightly obstructed by the large swaying branches and leaves.
That’s strange…his last memory is falling down the ground after a strange girl attacked him with a rock. Where is he…
He looked down.
He was several feet from the ground.
Alfred let out a surprised yelp upon discovery and almost fell off the tree’s branch, if not for someone who suddenly grabbed him behind his ponytail.
“Stay still!” she hissed, “Don’t move, extranjero! Do you want to die?!”
He frowned, prying the hands off from his precious dark blonde hair. “I’m not a stranger, I have a name, thank you very much!”
“You understand me?”
“Of course I do!” he snapped, “I live approximately near to this loud, tequila drinking-“ his voice trailed off. Alfred turned around to see who he is talking to, something he should have done earlier. It have become a bad habit for him to talk first before thinking of the situation and it have gotten him in trouble more than once.
In front of him he is a young female with golden sun-kissed complexion and wide-round deep brown eyes. She have a thick mass of hair as dark as the night, tied roughly in a bun to prevent the tresses from falling down to her back. She is dressed like the women in the rice fields he saw in Arthur’s journals of “Filipinas”-when he sneaked in the cabin to forage for food while he was still hiding in the ship at that time. Her clothing consists of a patterned skirt hiked to her knees and strange elbow-length puffy sleeves made of a near translucent material.
Near-translucent material…
They made those as outer garments?!
He narrowed his eyes and crawled closer to her, wondering if she is wearing something underneath the stiff fabric. She instantly blushed. It’s the first time a man advances to her without saying a word, without even asking permission for her hand-the only part of her body that the opposite sex is allowed to touch. And she knows how her Papa will raise hell if somebody goes beyond that point. When he tried to touch her top, she quickly slapped his hand.
“Ow!”
“How dare you! I don’t even know you!” she cried, holding onto to her chest tightly, blushing. “Señor, where are your manners!”
Alfred felt kicking himself-for acting again out of impulse, of course what WAS he thinking! She is a young lady! Arthur have taught him better and drilled him several times about proper conduct, especially when it comes to women. He really didn’t mean to make a pass on her. He raised both palms and tried moving back, trying to let her know he didn’t mean to. But she is a feisty one-and Alfred watched in horror as she grabbed some of the yellow fruits from the tree and starts to hurl one at him.
“I’m sorry! Ow!”
It was then he remembered one of Arthur’s lectures, something he fortunately recalled at that moment.
“A true gentleman knows when to back down.” Arthur said, “When apologizing to a young lady after a heated argument, the key is you must say these three important words and she will then accept your apology.”
“Oh, I think I know!”
“No, you git! Not those three words!” Arthur snapped, “It’s-“
...
“I was wrong!” Alfred cried out, shielding his face with his arms, “I was wrong! I don’t mean to offend you! I’m sorry!”
The hurling stopped, and he peeked with one eye. She is breathing heavily, exhausted but she have started to calm down. In what seems to be an eternity, none of them said a word---they were staring at each other, observing the other, waiting for one of them to talk.
Alfred felt she resembles slightly someone he knows from memory, something he used to hear and see from the ‘bed time’ stories Arthur used to regal him as a child.
Salome felt that the blue-eyed young man in front of her have some importance-she does not know what it is, but it’s just a hunch that she felt the moment she realized he is not the ‘white devil’ her Papa speaks of. He however shared some physical attributes, the dark blonde hair and the fair white complexion. She have seen some of the soldiers in red coats having the same kind of skin shade, and like most of them-this ‘white man’ in front of her is getting flushed and sweaty with the heat and humidity of the tropics.
He is probably wondering how she can take it.
“Oh! How rude of me…m-my name is Alfred. Alfred Jones.” He finally spoke “I got curious on what you are wearing, I don’t mean to-I don’t mean to touch your…!”
“I-it’s all right,” she stammered. “You must be very hungry, Señor Alfred” she tossed a mango in front of him and he nearly jumped. He then reluctantly took the fruit “-they said heat and hunger can make you do crazy things. You are new here, you are not used to my weather and you are running like a loco when you saw this tree. You are one of them, aren’t you?”
“Hold it right there! *chomp* One at a *chomp* time!”
She sweat dropped, in mere seconds, Alfred was halfway gnawing the fruit.
“Señor! You don’t eat the skin!”
“You haven’t told me your name yet-“ he wiped his messy mouth, full of the yellow sticky nectar. He spitted the skin out. “-and you are from here, you think I’m the enemy and yet you saved me and kept me here. Why?”
“I’m the one who asked the questions first!”
“And I don’t know who you are!”
“Señor, if you didn’t start by attempting to grope my vital regions and introduced yourself earlier then we wouldn’t be in this confusing predicament right now!”
“Well, if you didn’t attack a helpless half-starved man with a rock then I should have!”
Silence.
They both sighed heavily.
Alfred is still making a ridiculous smacking sound as he nibbles the fruit to the bone. Salome wondered when is the last time the man have last eaten.
And for Alfred, he can almost hear Arthur lecturing him again about proper etiquette.
“Young miss,” He almost cringed at the formality, “My own homeland is in a state of confusion right now, I want to get my head out of it for a while and I thought escaping to one of my dad’s seafaring adventures might just be something I need to unwind. I regretted that. It’s so hot in here!
“Your father-“ her eyes widened, “Is he a blonde man with fuzzy eyebrows? Like caterpillars?”
Alfred nearly choked on his nearly finished mango. He looked up at her; remembering her words when he knocked him out cold. She accused him being Inglaterra-England.
“Yes he is. Thought me everything I know, he raised me. You called him by his Real Name when you knocked me out cold. You know him?”
She gave him a hard glare. But how can one stay angry to this handsome young man, who is staring back at her with those wide clueless blue eyes?
She blushed again, realizing she is staring at him longer than she thought she would. She is allowing herself to be distracted by the opposite sex’s features and it will let her mind fester with ‘indecent thoughts’-or so her Papa always tells her. She is not allowed to look at any man in a certain period of time if he is not properly acquainted to her. If he is going to have his way, he will force her to go a confession.
But Papa is not around.
Shifting awkwardly, she silently observed him as he finishes his mango. This stranger-this Alfred F. Jones, is the son of the man who have invaded her homeland, her father’s long time rival-they call him Gran Britannia, Inglattera-and in his other name, Arthur Kirkland.
She swallowed hard, “My Papa knows him.”
Alfred threw the gnawed mango seed to the ground much to Salome’s irritation. He starts wiping his hands to his shirt and is making a mess of himself. “Wow! What a small world, huh? So what’s your Dad’s name? They might be friends or something!”
“I will tell mine if you tell me yours first!”
Alfred frowned at his white shirt stained with the sticky mango nectar. “Arthur. Arthur Kirkland...” he mumbled, and he starts slapping his neck and other parts of his body. “Dear Lord! Mosquitoes! I never see them this big!”
Salome sighed, mosquitoes. Even her Papa considered it as the bane of his existence as the annoying insects seem to swarm around new comers. The locals never had much trouble with the little pests.
“So how is he like?” she asked bravely, “This Señor Kirkland?”
Alfred tried to balance himself as he smacked a big one on his arm. He is obviously too distracted. “Hmm where do I start-he is pretty okay I guess, he is all about refinement, culture, industrial progress whatever. He considers this as a big advantage over his rival nations-they use to make fun of him when he is little and now he is kicking their butts at every chance he gets!”
“How about women?” she asked, her tone worried. “Do he also-kick their butts?”
The blonde let out a loud whooping sound that nearly sent him slipping from the branch. Salome instantly grabbed him by the arm and helped him up, their hands met, and their faces, few inches shy away from each other. They quickly perked up, Alfred starts scratching his head in an awkward manner, letting out an uneasy laugh as the Filipina blushed once more, recoiling both of her arms once again back to her chest. She starts to fiddle with her scapulars.
“No-uh, no he won’t! He prides himself as a gentleman, he can’t bring himself to! It won’t be fair!” and he made a silly grin. “He can be tough in the outside, but give him some ol’ puppy eyes and he’ll melt in the inside like butter on fresh toasted bread.”
Mmm…bread. How Alfred starts to miss actual food back home.
He then perked up and looked at her suspiciously “You haven’t told me who your dad is.”
But Salome wasn’t listening to him, she turned her attention towards the ground and at the outskirts of the woods-there is a nearby barrio several feet from where she was. She can see the red coats, they are inspecting every house and any possible area where she could be hiding. Hell, one of them is even wallowing in the pigs feed as the locals looked at them strangely than in fear-as if she CAN hide at where the pigs are eating. The one leading the pack was wearing a blue coat and was scanning the surroundings as he stood at the middle of the muddy road
“Search every home, don’t leave any single bloody rock unturned!” the man in blue barked orders. “I don’t care if you get your hands dirty with those pig’s filth, private! She can be hiding anywhere!”
“Oh dios mio!” she cupped her mouth. They already knew who she was.
“Miss-“ Alfred tapped her lightly on the shoulder, his expression serious. “You said your father knows mine. Who is your father?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
“Come out, come out my bonny lass! I know you are out there!”
Arthur Kirkland is advancing faster than she thought. He could see her in the open any moment now.
“Miss-“ he tapped her again, oblivious of the impending danger. “Who exactly are you?!“
“Keep it down, Señor!” she covered Alfred’s mouth, but her eyes are glued to the advancing officer. The man is slightly disheveled and unlike his subordinates he is not wearing a pompous white wig. Squinting slightly as Alfred struggled within her grip, she tried to focus on the man’s face-and saw it, thick eyebrows that seems like resting caterpillars and green emerald eyes just like her Papa’s. “Do your Papa know you are here?”
“Ummff-no!”
“Then stay put!”
Salome quickly shoved him deeper within the tree’s branches as Arthur turned his head towards her direction, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. Salome was about to follow suit and hide herself, but Arthur quickly spotted her.
“Filipinas!”
She froze. Arthur saw her and called her by her real name. His loud baritone voice catches the attention of the rest of the soldiers who all quickly followed his lead. She can see the local townsfolk attempting to stop them, but it was a futile effort-the redcoats are superior in arsenals and in number.
In matter of minutes, they already have surrounded the mango tree where she sat, all their rifles pointing at her. She tried to avoid glancing at the handsome stranger gawking at her deep within the leaves and the branches.
Arthur moved closer than the rest, commanding his men to lower their weapons. Salome frowned beneath her; she and her Papa’s archrival are now finally meeting each other face to face.
She hated him. She got caught in a war that is not of her own liking-this man declared war against her Papa and because of him he had to leave her again-ironically leaving her vulnerable to this diablo’s attack.
He was looking intently at her as she was to him, ingraining carefully in their memories the face of one another, that of the captor and the captive. Salome wonders if he gets any sunlight at all, his pasty complexion was noticeable despite his flushed coloring-he is not used to the humidity of the tropics. He didn’t possess the boyish looks nor the charisma his son had, and in her standards, not entirely that handsome.
And in turn, Arthur finds her a little small for her age. For the past few days, he gets to observe the local womenfolk and they all behave conservatively like their cultured European counterparts. It was like he can almost taste the culture that Antonio have drilled to his young colony and expected her to behave as such. So it was quite a surprise to find her in a farm girl’s attire, barefooted, clinging unto the mango tree like a monkey and glaring hard at him. It was that hateful expression that she strongly resembles her Father.
“I will get back at you, you bastard!” Antonio will scream at him after sustaining a massive lump on his head after a major defeat in battle. “I will get you for this!”
Arthur strode underneath her, placing his hands over his hips. Having polished his Spanish, he faced her confidently.
“There is no mistake, you are the Sun’s child, Filipinas.” he said, and then asked “ Then it’s true, you are Carriedo’s-unica hija?”
He was greeted with a mango hurled on his face. The impact almost sent him hurling down the ground.
His men starts to point their rifles back again, and Arthur stopped them once more. His face was red, he almost choked---that misfit almost broke his nose!
“That’s it!” he shouted angrily, throwing his glove on the ground. “I tried reasoning with you! I’m getting my men to bring you down here this instant!”
“You can’t make me!” she cried, her face flaring up. “My Papa will get back at you, you white devil! I hate you! You and your hideous caterpillar eyebrows!”
“I’m what?!” his eye brow twitched, he is very certain that the wanker have told her about him. Some of the men who understood her tried to suppress the urge to laugh. “Goodness, you are your father’s daughter alright! You both just don’t know when to give up, do you?”
“You already have my home!” she cried once more, but her tone was not scared-she was angry. “What more do you want? Why don’t you just take what you need and leave? Just leave!”
“You know it’s not going to be that easy, Maria.”
“Do not call me Maria! Only Papa can call me Maria!”
Arthur felt a strong wave of migraine coming. He facepalmed. Women. How can Antonio even stand this?!
“Young lady, your father is no longer around here and I’m the next best damned thing as a father figure you are going to get. So whether you like it or not, I’m NOW THE ONE IN CHARGE and I’m going to do whatever is bloody necessary to get you down that bloody mango tree so we can settle our issues once and for all!”
She made an angry sound, “So I can be your captive? No!”
He facepalmed once again. How can he explain this? True, the young colony is under his jurisdiction right now, he already holds her vast resources, but that does not mean he will come down to her like the colonizers of the old and treat their captives like dirt. In return for her rich supplies, he can teach her a thing or two about his culture-it will be a beneficial relationship.
“Well as strange as this might sound, yes you are.” He reasoned. “But that does not mean I will treat you like a slave, we are civilized men, we are not some primitive monsters like your Father have probably lead you believe. I can teach you a thing or two about my culture-it will be a beneficial relationship for both of us.”
He frowned a little; the information is probably too much for the young Salome. “You understood what I mean right?”
“LIES. I don’t believe you!”
“Maria, it will be simpler if you just come down so we can talk this over!” he growled, his patience is wearing off.
She starts to teeter at the branch of the tree. “W-what are you doing?!”
“I’d rather die than get caught!” she screamed, “You couldn’t care less now since you already have what you wanted!”
She was testing him. She puffed her face, pretending she is in-between pretending to cry or about to scream-similar to the tantrum fits that she throws to her Papa if he tries having his way.
He prides himself as a gentleman.
He can be tough in the outside, but give him some ol’ puppy eyes and he’ll melt in the inside like butter on fresh toasted bread.
“Don’t you even dare do this to me, young lady!”
If Arthur Kirkland is really a man of his word…
“Sir! She is-! She is going to-”
“Maria, STOP!”
If he is a true gentleman, a civilized individual, that he will look after her despite the situation they are in-
The redcoats gaped as she stepped backwards, letting herself fall--
“MARIA!!”
Arthur leaped forward, throwing himself to the ground, stretching his arms and catching her just in the nick of time, rolling down the wet grassy ground as he held on her in a protective embrace. They continue to roll until there was a sickening thud. Arthur finally hits a tree, causing him to finally abruptly stop-his eyes spinning spirals. She thought she have killed him.
Oh dios mio…
At the corner of her eye, she can see Alfred’s head peeking out, gaping. She gave him a quick glare shot and he quickly went back to hiding.
Recovering from the impact, Arthur dusts himself, his face was flared up and his green eyes glaring down at her hard.
“Y-YOU! Y-you-”
This time she is now really scared, Salome have seen that dark expression before, and those angry green eyes-with Papa. He had no qualms hitting her when she was younger if she misbehaves. And Señor Kirkland got hurt because of her antics. She has gone way too far this time.
Acting out upon reflex, she quickly shielded her face with her arms.
“-You don’t do that again! Don’t ever DO THAT AGAIN!” he scolded her, his tone upset.
He will hit her and she knows it, the fear has unearthed her traumatic memories. “No, Papa! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” she starts to cry, “I don’t mean to, Papa! Don’t hit me, please!“
Arthur was surprised; did he really think he would hit her?
Damn you bloody tomato bastard, how exactly did you raise your daughter?
The Englishman gently enveloped her in his warm embrace, causing her to jump a little and stiffen up. She didn’t expect comfort from the man her father warned her about, the white devil, Arthur Kirkland. After all, all her superiors told her nothing but tales of his centuries-long rivalry with her Papa, his superiority in naval warfare and his continuous conquest on seizing others territories.
The fair-skinned extranjero, his runaway son named Alfred however, painted him in a different picture. For the few minutes they shared, he talked about him greatly.
Alfred Jones is fortunate to have a tough yet understanding father.
“-You foolish child. I won’t hurt you.”
Arthur keeps re-assuring her with those words until she gradually relaxed in his arms. As she does, he stood up and gently carried her, her face still burrowed lightly on his chest. She felt so embarrassed, for a grown man to see her cry-screaming for her father not to hit her. He was not supposed to know.
He then calmly instructed his men to fetch him a carriage quick so they can ride back to the Casa. It has been an exhausting day. Who knew the Sun’s child can be such a handful? There is so much fire in her, a stubborn independent streak-if properly nurtured will prove to be a strong asset shall she grows to be, god-forbid, a nation independent from España’s possessive clutches. It’s not meant to be stoked, as he realized that’s how Carriedo raises his children. The more he suppressed that fire, the more they will rebel and the more they will struggle for their independence.
Good lord, she reminds him of that inconsiderate upstart he left half-way around the world.
--
Later that Evening
Alfred is still up among the branches of the mango tree, slapping the mosquitoes swarming around him, he cannot believe what he just heard that afternoon-his mind is still racing.
That young lady is Filipinas? Antonio Carriedo-his father’s arch rival, have a daughter colony? Even he knows that the Conquistador is known to have only but sons.
He never got her name.
But he definitely knows they will see each other again.
Because somebody have to get him down the goddamn tree!
“H-help! Anyone?” he squeaked. “Wait, I think this is not a good idea…”
==
TO BE CONTINUED
again (sob)
Well that took me long to update >_> I have some case of writer's block and my sibling won't leave me alone as I type (annoying little sisters... *stabs* why can't they just mind their own business. srsly.)
I just think Iggy needs a little closure and I didn't expect the drama so...I cut it again so the ending will be devoted exclusively to Piri x Alfred...
Also THIS DOUJIN PROJECT THNGIE STILL ONGOING. (Seems like it's most likely I will extend the contribution thing, but the way I see it...it seems I have to do everything myself and POKE people for their art. The main artist thing is due at the 30th of this month though or you can combine both idkkk :D)
-+-
I will also finish this asap as soon as I get this 2-part fic request 'one-shot' finished this HOLY WEEK. It's haunting my muse for weeks now. *distracted*
Cockteaser:
She trembled slightly, swallowing hard as she mustered the strength and finally looked straight up to him: His expression is unreadable-it was calm, and Maria knows he is trying everything in his power to restrain himself from tearing her to pieces. He was flushed, his lower jaw was taut and it was his eyes-those eyes-it’s within those burning green depths that his emotions finally betrayed him.
There is nothing in there but cold-hard contempt-and something else so chilling and she can’t fathom what it is. She breaks into cold sweat and her heart starts to race as Antonio approached closer to her and she can’t tell what he is going to do: When angered, he becomes unpredictable.
Bound to be revised idk. YANDERENESS,