[FanFic] 1762: Extranjero (Stranger) (3.02/4)
Now for some historical romantic comedic fluff :D
But curse the LJ limit, so I will up the rest on tuesday.
And it's ridiculous to put Pt.3.03 so that part will be Part.04
Title: 1762: Extranjero (Pt.03.02 - Love Story)
Author: silentside
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. Some mention of actual historical figures.
Warning: Unbetad. Long. Tsundereness. Some mild 'patriotism' in iggy's part.
Chapter Summary:
10. And lastly and most important of all, do not let her fall in love.
Arthur think he is going to have a migraine with all the minute details that Antonio have written how to look after Maria, not to mention the strike-out taunts about his looks and hygiene. He is half-tempted to tear it to pieces. But the last lines in the letter made him think about it twice.
Do not let her fall in love; when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
Part 01 - here (present period)
Part 02.01 - here (carriedo’s flashback)
Part 02.02 - here (iggy’s bad assness flashback and narrative)
Part 03.01 - here (iggy tsundereness and first encounters)
Part. 03.02 - Love Story
Arthur Kirkland you eyebrow demon and child thief,
How is a man like you, seasoned by centuries of strategic warfare didn't see one thing coming: Las Islas Filipinas is a young female, you goat. Are you starting to be senile? That’s good news for me then! Why on god's green earth do you think I called her "pearl of the orient"?
It might be too late to say this but I will say it anyway: don't you even dare touch my little girl. I mean you can hold her if she refuses to wear her panuelo or when she is being stubborn--what I mean was don't TOUCH her, that kind of TOUCH Francis told me you are more of a pervert than he can ever be and here you are accusing me as a pedophile and I mean it. Maria Salome-If you have known her name already, might be my only girl-but she is not my only child. I’m on a race trying to keep most of them from falling to your sick clutches hands as some of them, like her, have already had.
And since you readily admitted you personally foresaw the invasion of mi hija’s place, and dumb enough not even knowing who she really was-then it’s also your responsibility to look after. Yes, Arthur Kirkland, you are going to act as her father surrogate and you will understand why I always keep a keen eye on her. You will do so, until I find a way to have her back, me and Francis will get back to you, wait till you see, you snotty tea-drinking bastard
P.S. And since we are at the subject about being fathers, I suggest you read the next page of this letter-you must learn the facts and abide by these rules if you want to have a better understanding of my daughter.
Arthur fans himself furiously with his powdered wig as he read every detail of the letter. He silently fumed when he came to the next page, which the Spaniard deliberately wrote in painstakingly small curvy letters. He have to use a magnifying glass to transcribe the details beside him.
1. Any man not relatively acquainted with my hija cannot make any physical contact with her. They are only allowed to touch her hand, which they have to seek by asking her permission. You are not allowed to view much skin---even her bloody ankles, her arms the most--and her face only. You pride yourself as a man of refined manners and etiquette; I think you know how the rest works.
PS. There are instances she will wear her skirt above her knees and roll up her sleeves, but that will be the time if she will do her chores such as washing her clothes by the river and harvesting fruits and vegetables. Don't observe her without her knowledge, god forbid what impure thoughts that might fester in that head of yours.
2. You have already experienced first hand now how unpredictable climate in Filipinas is--as like any young female who constantly changes her mind. As it's been constantly and excessively cold in your place, Filipinas will ALWAYS be hot and humid. (I can now just imagine you getting the case of flu and getting flushed all over like an over ripe tomato rotting in a hot summer of March) Because of this, My hija wakes up to do her chores as early as 4 am in the morning, so by the time the sun is up and scorching the earth, her work will be done and she will have her siesta--in my language, that means she takes long afternoon naps. I usually don't condone napping during waking hours, but she-nevermind.
This is a heads up just in case your redcoats see her in unusual hours. Do not, I repeat, reprimand her for being lazy if she wakes up late in the afternoon-unless you want to be temporarily deaf for the rest of the week.
3. Another one of her responsibilities includes preparing meals to be cooked for the rest of the week, as a young lady she must learn and master everything at the domestic home front. You will not help her-she might appear to be a small delicate child but she is tough as nails and she can do this on her own. And for the love of god, do not feed her your cooking! If you insist on teaching her your cuisine, then you have to let her do the cooking, her own way. Mi hija can make anything taste good, regardless of what it’s made of. Ask for her balut, adobo or better yet, try her green mangoes with fish paste if you are man enough to tolerate smelling it within a 10 feet radius to see what I mean.
4. She gets easily confused and infatuated with extranjeros, especially the fair-skinned and light-haired ones. So don't be surprised if she addresses everyone with one name but your evil eyebrows however, will make you very distinct from them try to get her familiar with everyone because if you lose her, I will really shove my ax into you so hard that you can feel the resurgence of Catholicism in-just don’t lose her! You do that!
5. I’m trying to raise her to be a pious, god-fearing young lady, don’t confuse her with more religion!
6. She is still entering the thresholds of womanhood, and like any growing young girl she is moody and sensitive-try to not to be brutally honest with her because I know you are she will take it seriously at heart, even if your words means little to you. I hope she can start by poisoning your food or beat you with sticks while you sleep. Give her space if she needs it.
7. When my Maria is younger, I made it a routine to comb her long black hair every evening with coconut oil. I do so up to this day, in every chance I get to drop by the casa to bond with her. She usually have trouble sleeping if I don't do it, (it's not the same thing when I send my high-ranking men to do it *sigh*) I also sing her to sleep while I play my guitar. But now she has blossomed into womanhood, I have to do that outside.
Yes, You have to comb her hair with coconut oil every evening if you want her to sleep and be up and well in the morning. (But don't think you can bond with mi hija with THAT) I issued an order to one of my officers to foresee that one of my guardia sibils will have to be present when you do this, just in case you do something stupid.
About singing her to sleep, you can play whatever instrument you are good at instead. DON’T SING as much as don’t you even try to COOK for my hija. I heard from Francis your singing voice is so awful, that it’s enough to give grown men nightmares.
8. Learn to deal with her 'visitantes mensuales'--monthly visitor. Y-you must have heard of that, a woman's 'visitor'-usually marked with violent tantrums, abdominal cramps and exhaustion? You have to sew on those linen cloths in her disposable unmentionables in advance. It usually lasts only about a week, but the first (3) days she can use up to 6 changes--sometimes she stains her skirts too. Oh dear lord, I feel so awkward just saying this and to think that both of us are already used to seeing lots of blood in centuries of warfare, seizing lands and establishing new territories-but THIS
PS. She is not allowed to bathe while she have her 'visitante', I believe a woman bleeds so she will be cleansed from impure things she have taken in, and that's what I thought her since the day she had it. She's only allowed to wipe herself lightly with a sterilized cloth.
PSS. Before you question the hygiene, at least she does not bathe only TWICE a year or use wanton make-up to cover skin rashes and pass them for beauty marks unlike some people from a certain landmass that I know
9. She eats about four-five times a day. Three meals, which usually consists of rice-and meriendas. So do not be surprised if you quickly run out of tea and biscuits. She is a growing girl after all.
10. And lastly and most important of all, do not let her fall in love.
Arthur think he is going to have a migraine with all the minute details that Antonio have written how to look after Maria, not to mention the strike-out taunts about his looks and hygiene. He is half-tempted to tear it to pieces. But the last lines in the letter made him think about it twice.
Do not let her fall in love; when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
It could be any one-your men if they don't share your hideous eyebrows, your officers or-god forbid, it could be any of your children! If that happens, I'd rather have my empire fall than to have any one of those obnoxious spawns of yours try to...
Just...just nip it in the bud if this happens---do it for me, it's for the best.
Don't EVEN think of ignoring that last line. Lest you forget, you also have kids.
What if it's your hijo favorito in THAT predicament?
Signed,
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo
"He is a man, Carriedo. My Alfred got nothing to lose." Arthur murmured, as if he is talking to the Spaniard as he scanned through the transcribed message.
"Let's see how fast you can recover while I have your very valuable daughter in my charge."
He then rubbed his eyes and rested his head at the back of the chair; he can't believe the length he have to put down in ink. He then glanced at what used to be Antonio's desk, he already took down the 'familia' photo from it's frame and re-assessed it: there is the Spaniard standing majestically in front of his Galleons, with two of his precious children in tow, the ones that made him a proud dad-because thanks to them he became an established colonial super power. There is the rough-looking young Alfonso Hernandez, who is crudely picking his nose and the young Maria, whose discomfort is obvious as her Papa made her wear truckload of fabrics.
“Poor little girl, made to wear all that layers in such abysmal climate-“
Maybe it’s not the layers, as Arthur noticed how translucently thin most of her coverings are. It’s probably out of formality’s sake-since it’s a solemn take after all. Only Alfonso ruined the take. Sons. They are a handful-but after what he read in his rival’s letter, it seems that raising a daughter is equally just as stressful.
He remembers how hard it’s to get Alfred to wear nice clothes.
Or even have his hair cut short.
Or get his ass moving to have his room cleaned.
Or getting him to finish his food-and to wash after it.
But there is no question that when it comes to taking a bath, he does it immediately.
But he takes his pet dog with him.
Arthur facepalmed. Deep inside he is wondering how his own colony from the far side of the world is faring.
He looked back at the photo once again. He only had Maria-if it’s not risky, he would also have Alfonso, and with that he can surely and thoroughly cripple Carriedo.
He remembered faintly seeing a galleon slipping off to safety when they attacked Filipinas’s shores-he thought if he have one of the boys to be under him it’s good enough: with it’s rich vast resources and not to mention manpower, he can get the boy to work directly under him. But instead he got a girl, who is as temperamental and as moody as the constant climate changes in her place.
Then for no particular reason a strange imagery materialized in his weary mind. Alfred and Maria. Both are inherent stubborn, full of boundless energy and raging hormones. Maria can stand her ground against almost any man, as she showed little fear when she pelted a mango in the face of the personification of Great Britain.
But then again there's no chance in hell will the two meet each other, if one even considers the distance. And of course he and Carriedo as their parents. That does not need explaining any more. He would rather impale his ass on a cactus than to be in same room with that fruit.
"What the bloody hell is this, 10 simple rules how to raise my teenage daughter?!" he scowled, tossing the photo frame back at the desk again and getting back at the task at hand. Antonio's method of raising her involves lots of pampering-and lots of housework, both varying extremes.
Not to mention how he constantly defers to religion when he talks about her as this 'blossoming lady'. His thick eyebrows furrowed once more, trying to organize the words that he will say to her later. Maria didn't say a single word to him ever since he retrieved her yesterday from that mango tree. She didn't eat dinner and without looking him in the eye, silently excused herself to her old room--with his redcoats securing the entire parameter. He won't risk her escaping again.
“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!“
So Antonio made her believe that he really is a monster? Well he will show him, he can be a better father to this little girl. He won't strike her over unnecessary things. One can give tough love without resorting to physical punishment just to prove authority.
But first, he needs to appease her, to show her that even being under his rule he can be just and fair.
He starts to tap his fingers impatiently on the desk
And he turns blue, placing both palms on his face.
Oh god, he does not know what to give to a young lady.
"Flowers? I'm not exactly courting her. I doubt if they even have chocolate truffles..." he grumbled, fidgeting slightly. He scanned the room for ideas, but it’s filled with nothing but drawing plans, maps, portraits of Antonio’s children and a basket of tomatoes. Nothing came. "Hmm, what to give...what to give..."
Arthur remembers the dog that Alfred always takes with him every time they bath. He gave it to him as a puppy when he is still a boy, a little apology gift after they have a silly argument and he almost ran away.
"By George, that's it! Nobody can resists having cuddly pets, I will give her a puppy!" He lit up, but then paused again. "But wait, she is a lass...maybe a kitten? Nah, not at this weather... no...hmm, a pony! Yes! yes, a pony!" Arthur sat up and starts to rub his fingers, visualizing the imagery with intensity. He knows how young women back in his place fawn for pretty things; a white pony will be perfect!
Arthur stood up, his expression determined and his voice resonating in the whole room. "That's it, I will get her a white pony! She will love it, every young lass loves a pony!"
He then glanced on his side, gazing at the empty space. It's been awhile since he conjured up his friends of supernatural origins. They usually advise him and give him brilliant suggestions in moments like this.
Nothing.
"Now, where did everyone go?" he remarked out loud, disappointed. "I know the heat in the tropics is unbearable, but this is ridiculous!"
"Admiral Kirkland, sir. We're outside."
Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected response and turned around to see one of his grim-faced redcoats peeking inside the room. He must have been too loud and didn't realize it. He blushed scarlet.
"T-this is nothing!" he stammered, his green gaze furious. "Get back to your post, soldier--no wait, don't close the door, I'm going out!"
Reluctantly, the solider nodded. Just when the Englishman walked past them, they started to follow him.
"No, no...Don’t follow me. Get back to your posts." he called off, "I'm not going out today."
"But sir, you just said..."
"--of the house. I'm not going out of the house!" he grumbled, "I'm going to need Dawson, where the bloody hell is he?"
"Sir, he is overseeing the reconstruction of the damage walls of the hou...citadel." The other soldier responded, looking clearly disturbed. He never saw the Admiral this...distracted.
"I see.." Arthur answered, and snapped his fingers. "Well then, tell him to meet me back inside. I need to talk to him."
And with that, the blonde dismissed them and retreated once again to Antonio's private quarters.
"I think Sir Kirkland is losing his marbles.” one of the soldiers commented, "I never saw him in such a flustered state ever since he learned that Sir Carriedo have a daughter-and now he is talking to himself about ponies!"
"You should have seen his reaction when she pelted a mango on his face!"
"Oh, I heard about that yesterday! She even insulted his eyebrows, right? It’s like she is asking for a death wish!"
And without warning, Arthur opened the door behind them. His expression was dark. The soldiers turned blue when he gave each a long hard glare.
"If both the two of you want to live longer, make yourselves useful, hurry up and get me Dawson!"
"Y-yes sir! Admiral, sir!"
As the red coats scampered away, Arthur let out a weary sigh and heads back to his desk. He took out a photo from his coat pocket. At times like this, even though he hated to admit it, but he is missing that brat he left half-way around the world.
There he was standing side by side with Alfred, who, ever since entering puberty have a sudden growth spurt--he have surpassed him in terms of height. He is brandishing that silly smile, wearing the nice clothes he gave him in a rough manner, and his long ponytail neatly tied back. God, he hated the fact Alfred wants to keep his hair long--the lad probably does not know it yet, but with his hair down, he just looked like his brother.
The poor thing have the unfortunate luck to be raised under that frog's tutelage, which leads Arthur to wonder what kind of trauma Bonnefoy have inflicted to poor Matthieu, when he found the boy shaking and behaving quite passively when he claimed him as a part of his conquest. If not for their contrasting personalities and one of them wearing glasses, he cannot tell the difference.
Thank god he convinced the git to wear his hair in a pony tail.
He then took the family photo of Maria from the desk and pressed the two photos together. Good lord, they might be about the same age but she is so petite...she barely even reached Alfred's shoulders. He grimaced, he is beside Alfred and Maria is beside Antonio, they look disgruntled in-laws.
"What am I thinking?!" he scowled once more, "This might be the heat talking...I think I need to take off my coat.."
--
Meanwhile near the outskirts of the woods
"Unghh"
Alfred F. Jones woke up early that morning scratching head, wondering how he ends up face down on the damp grassy ground. He seemed okay, his nose is not broken and every limb on his body seems intact. It slowly registered him where he was-when he saw some curious young brown-skinned locals attempting to poke him with a branch and was about to steal his shoes.
"Hey, bugger off!"
They jumped, surprised to find the white stranger alive and started to run away from him screaming.
"Bugger off?" he mumbled, "Damn, I'm starting to sound like my old man."
He immediately stood up and dusts himself off. Alfred remembered the events that happened yesterday, the exchange of angry shouts as the young lady-whom he learned happens to be the Spanish Conquistador’s daughter, and his old man, Arthur Kirkland. He does not know whether to laugh or feel sorry for Arthur-he have talked about how his bosses would like to expand it’s vast empire, as if there is not enough children colonies to look after. And one day found a way to cripple his long time formidable rival, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, by seizing two of his important children colonies. He overlooked the fact that one of them is a stubborn high-spirited female who pelts mangoes with deadly accuracy. He knows for a fact that Arthur never dealt with feisty young female colonies before-and that’s when the rare nurturing side of him shows.
Now his first objective, he have to eat something if he is to survive in this foreign terrain. He wasn’t able to enjoy the mangoes yesterday. “Man, I’m still hungry-I need to eat some actual food.” He whined, picking up one of the half-skinned mangoes off the ground. He squinted his eyes and cried out loud, “What can I actually have here for actual fooddd?”
Mumbling, he re-tied his messy ponytail and dusts off the leaves and dirt from his blonde locks. Alfred then proceeds to aimlessly walk towards the nearby town, unmindful of the locals who will stop briefly to look at him with fear, spite or curiosity. His strange clothes, his tall build, fair skin and light-colored hair made him stand out like a sore thumb and thanks to Arthur’s invasion of the archipelago, a little less than welcome.
“Hmmm!” he sniffed, smelling something heavenly in the air. He followed the delicious scent in a near-hypnotic state, not realizing the people are parting away nervously from him. He came across what seems to be a baker’s shop, men taking out small bread rolls about the size of fists from the stoned ovens while others mold the flour for the next batch.
“Bread!” he squeals in childish delight, rushing towards it. “Finally a food that I know, bread!”
In his halting Spanish, Alfred approached and greeted one of the panaderos.
“Buenos…dias!”
The blonde then starts to make strange hand gestures as he asks them slowly in his Spanish to what kind of bread they are selling. Nervously, the man dropped everything and called for what he assumed is the manager of the establishment, smartly dressed-and from what he assumed, an illustrado.
“I speak your English, Señor.” The man replied in his tongue, trying to be calm. “I hear you are talking to one of my men. You want our pan de sal?”
“Pan de…what?”
“Salted bread.”
“Yes!” he sighed in relief, and turning around to search for his pockets “I would like to have some bread, please! I know I don’t have much--”
The man shoved two bagful of ‘pan de sal’ to him. “No, you take it-free!”
“But sir!” Alfred objected, as he reluctantly took them. The manager also tossed what seemed to be bottled fruit preserves as well. “I have to pay you at least something!”
“No, you’re English, you can have it for free--!”
Alfred bit a piece of bread to his mouth and reached to one of his pockets. He can see the manager and his men looking around anxiously on his side and he turned around, to see a group of red coats approaching.
“Oh fut, dy dnt gnaw ym hr! (Oh shoot, they don’t know I’m here!)” he panicked, as he chewed on the bread and reached into his pocket. He tossed the only valuable he can barter for the food: a gold pocket watch.
“Here, my friend!” he swallowed, adjusting finally the weight of the bags of both pan de sals in his arms. “It’s made out of the real thing, thanks for the bread!”
Alfred then runs away, disappearing quickly among the local crowd and into the streets before the red coats can even take a glimpse of him. He managed to find himself a good hiding spot behind among merchants who peddles their wares through big horse-drawn caravans. He thanked the heavens that they are all too exhausted or resting to even bother with a half-starved white man wolfing down a bag of bread, dipping them into all the opened bottles of preserves, tasting everything.
“Oh god,” he rolled his eyes, savoring the taste. “How can this be salted bread, it just have the right amount of sweetness in it!” he chomped,
“They must call it sweet bread!”
He dipped one of them again, “This is all awesome! Guava jam? I don’t know what that is, but it tastes great!” He moved to the other, “Isn’t the coconut stuff supposed to be white? But what the hell!”
When he felt that he have his fill, Alfred rubbed his tummy and let out a loud belch. He ran out of the delicious fruit preserves and he still got another bag of them to eat.
“Hmm, they are tasty to be eaten as is anyway!”
Now with his first objective done, comes the second. He must dodge the red coats. Arthur will go ballistic if he learns of his presence in his occupied territory. The key is to be invisible or at least go undetected.
//-//
“Alfred, this is Matthieu-your brother.“
“Who?” he blinked, looking up from his hefty serving of pancakes.
“I’m Matthieu.”
“Wow, is that a talking polar bear?”
“I also like pancakes…that goes well with maple syrup. I have some, eh.”
“Who are you?”
Arthur facepalmed. The soft-spoken and well-dressed Matthieu shifted uncomfortably-he is indeed holding a polar bear and didn’t say anything when Alfred ignored him.
//-//
Alfred grinned, that might be the only encounter he remembered-but if he can also remember it clearly, the fellow resembled him so much that they could pass as twins. The funny thing is, everybody keeps forgetting him-or not being able to notice him.
“Heheh!”
Maybe also because, Alfred himself exudes far more awesomeness than this dude could ever have. At any rate, he gingerly pulled off his ponytail and messed up his hair, letting his locks fall down at place. He grabbed a pair of glasses among the merchant’s wares and wore it, rolled his sleeves down and buttoned his vest up. He took up the last bag of bread and glanced at a round mirror hanging at one of the caravans. Perfect.
“Nobody will recognize me now, eh?”
--
“A pony?”
Arthur folded his fingers thoughtfully underneath his chin, “Yes, a white pony. Don’t you think it’s perfect?”
He didn’t like the way his subordinate look at him, “What?”
“Sir, you haven’t slept for days.” Dawson finally replied, noting the dark circles underneath Arthur’s eyes. “Appeasing the Conquistador’s daughter by giving her a-pony?”
“White pony!”
“-a white pony.” He corrected himself, “Sir Kirkland, surely there are other ways to win her trust other than having to transport a young animal from half-way around the world!”
Arthur is flushed, how can Antonio stand the temperature? “But young women her age likes to fawn over pets! Puppies and Kittens are out of the equation! How about our horses? One of them could be pregnant!”
“Sir, we use stallions. All are incapable of bre-“
“I know, exotic birds!”
“She might catch a bird flu. Exotic wild life is not advisable for-”
Arthur gave Dawson a long hard glare. He is starting to sweat profusely and have loosened his shirt. He is running out of ideas, the heat is unbearable and he brought his palms to his face again.
“If I may speak, sir?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Try talking to her, she haven’t left her room since last evening.”
He inhaled deeply, moving his face up, his emerald eyes gazing out of his palms. “I think I’ll give it a try.”
“And also sir, you can try giving her flowers. There are some tall shrubs of white colored hibiscus outside and-”
He flared up, standing up defensively. “It’s not like I’m courting her! Don’t you think I considered that?”
Dawson lifted an eyebrow, “Sir, giving someone flowers does not exactly mean you have romantic inclinations.” He then took out what he had been hiding behind his back, three stalks of white colored hibiscus. “It can mean many things with the proper words-“ Arthur frowned and reluctantly took them, “-one can start with saying, I’m sorry everything is going to be all right.”
“Hmph, I never knew you know women well, Dawson.” He remarked, sniffing on the flowers. “It’s probably a clever idea having you installed here after all.”
The doors swung wide open once again, it’s one of the soldiers outside, “Sir Kirkland!”
“What? My goodness man, have you heard of knocking?!”
The soldier stared at them quizzically, it was a strange sight, the acting Governor and the personification of the great country facing each other and holding a small bouquet of flowers.
Arthur blushed and grabbed the white hibiscus furiously and faced the confused soldier.
“Sir, she have escaped! Fili-I mean Maria, she escaped!”
“That’s impossible! I have every man securing the parameters!” he growled, storming outside angrily. They followed suit. “How did this happen? Is she that small that you didn’t see her come out?”
They came upon her room, soldiers are inside her quarters and one of the red coats approached him nervously, with him are Maria’s clothes from yesterday.
“She probably disguised herself, Admiral Kirkland.”
“With what?!”
He followed the soldier’s gaze and saw an open trunk of clothes, which seems to have been dragged from the adjoining room-Antonio’s. Furiously, he sifted through the trunk and the scattered contents on the floor. He saw a pair of scissors, a sewing kit and lifted cut out fabrics to which are once a part of the Spaniard’s shirt. He placed all the excess fabrics together, analyzing to what he assume will be that of a whole outfit.
“Why that-git! Now she is a bloody crossdresser?!”
“S-sir?”
Arthur stood up, facing an anxious Dawson and a small crowd of worried soldiers.
“Gentlemen, we are now going to look for a lass disguising herself as a smaller version of her father.” He said, thumbing on a small white fabric.
“White shirt, dark red sash on the hips, brown slacks. Probably wearing boots and a light brown coat.” He paused briefly, “Most likely she’ll be wearing her father’s hat to hide all that hair.”
When they didn’t respond immediately, he frowned once more, “What are you all waiting for?” he barked, and they quickly scampered off.
“Search for her right this bloody instant! We can’t afford to lose her! Do I have to do everything around here?!”
By the time everybody left, Arthur found himself banging his fist and his forehead against the wall. Oh god, this-this girl is starting to be a handful!
“Aargghh!”
Dawson sweat dropped. He took the Spaniard’s letter and his Admiral’s transcribed notes in one folder with him before they left the room. Maybe they’re missing out something.
“Do you think that tomato pervert left out something in his letters?” Arthur asked, the red welt on his head is starting to show. “Because I’m certainly not warned about his daughter cross dressing!”
Dawson skimmed briefly at the last page, adjusting his glasses. “Actually sir, you might have missed something-“
“Well, what is it?”
“P.S. I almost forgot one detail-my daughter likes to climb trees, an unfortunate unladylike habit she have developed when I allowed her to participate in several games in town fiestas.”
“That’s old news! I found her on the top of a bloody mango tree yesterday!”
“-you must remove the mango tree outside in her front room. Don’t chop it off, re-plant it somewhere. I keep forgetting it. Lest you want her to sneak out, which has always been my problem ever since she entered puberty.”
The mango tree is still outside, near her room. The sliding windows are open.
Arthur Kirkland does not know whether he shall scream, go after her immediately or both.
--
The news of her second escape attempt spread through the ranks like wildfire, the city starts to buzz with activity as officers in command handed out to their subordinates rough sketches of a cleverly disguised Maria, as they spread out from the walled city to the neighboring barrios and among the locale, getting to line up and inspect people in the streets, mostly young boys below 18...and those with hats.
"They bloody all look alike!" one soldier remarked exasperatedly, wiping his sweaty brow as he let a young boy go after lifting out his sombrero.
"What if she cuts off her hair, what now?"
The other soldier sheepishly scratched his head, "--we feel them up for...woman parts?"
"Oh Bollocks, no way will I do that!"
Maria snickered, restraining the urge to burst out laughing as she heard the conservation not so far away from where she is hiding. She was grateful that the panaderos from the bakeshop recognized her and let her sneak in, allowing her to change her clothes immediately. She knows that sooner or later Inglaterra's men are going to find out, but they expected her to be still in her male disguise.
Maria swept her hair into a bun and tied a bandana over her head, rolling out the sleeves of her lose terno, she is going out wearing her simple 'farm girl' attire.
She felt sorry that she have to ruin her Papa's good clothes, "Please watch them for me...kuya" she begged, hiding the make-shift clothes among the sacks of flour, before pulling out a small basket from her small duffel bag. "I will try to get back at them later, if I can."
"Why don't you stay here for awhile, Senorita?" the well-dressed manager called out, "Please, it's dangerous out there. He will find you!"
"He will find me sooner or later!" she answered in a hurried manner, “This is not about me escaping him…” Her voice trails off, “I need to meet someone who might need my help-“
“Your help?”
She envisioned the fair-skinned extranjero, the blue-eyed Señor Alfred having passed out at the tree from starvation. Maria almost forgot about him when his ‘father’, Señor Arthur caught her and took her home. Oh god, what if he have fallen asleep and fell down the tree? Well, technically he can’t die-
But what if he woke up and wandered among the locals? What if they learned of his true nature, what then? And what if his father’s men have found about his little ‘seafaring adventure’?
She found herself reminiscing, when he was gawking at her with those wide-blue eyes of his.
“Miss, who is your father?”
Oh dios mio, why can’t she stop thinking about him?
Maria can almost feel her cheeks heating up. Her Papa always thought her to keep away from ‘impure thoughts’ when it comes to the opposite sex. But there is nothing impure about this-she just longed to see him again, she can’t just leave a half-starved man out there.
Could it be that this is her first-?
“Kuya,” she turned to one of the men, “Can I have some of your baked goods, please? I will try to pay you back!”
“There is no need to pay us back, Señorita!” the man replied, “Take as much as you can carry!”
Maria filled her small basket with the bread and other baked goods, before finally heading out to the street and to the busy barrio. She tried blending with the women folk, concealing her face now and then with her basket when she sees the red coats, as they made their rounds and as they searched for her. They are still looking for a girl masquerading as a smaller version of her father.
It did not take that long for Maria to find him, she just got off from a calesa and was on her way to where she left him when there he was, wearing a poor disguise: His locks were set loose, he is wearing glasses and his clothes are buttoned up and without a care in the world, walks about carrying one bagful of bread in one arm, munching away as he observed the locals-and being ignored by the red coats! It was like he is not even there!
Frantically, she tried to make eye contact and slowly approached him.
“Señor Alfred!” she called out, in a low cautious voice. “Señor Alfred!”
Alfred spun around, his eyes widening in recognition.
“Señor Alfred! What are you doing?!” she asked, as the blonde quickly hurried to her side, pulling her at a nearby corner. “I have been looking all over for you! And where did you get that?!”
“Shh!” he hushed her, “As long as I’m dressed up like this, my old man’s men won’t recognize me!”
She gave him a confused look, “How is that even possible?!”
He rolled his eyes and pointed his fingers to his face “I have a relative or something that look like this in my get up and people didn’t notice him-it’s like he has an invisible effect and well it works! ”
“Ah, you have twin brother!” she remarked, “-and he is invisible? Maybe you mean he is imaginary. The heat probably has gotten into your head, Señor Alfred!”
“No, it did not!” he snapped, pulling her farther away and deeper into the narrow alleys. “-look, its complicated, but either way it helped me sneak away from them… ” he frowned, finally away from the prying eyes of the suspicious locals and red coats. Alfred resumed tying back his hair into a neat ponytail, loosened his vest and rolled up his sleeves; he then unbuttoned his shirt up to his chest and fanned himself furiously.
All this and Maria Salome silently watched him, staring in wonder. Not only is this extranjero fair, but also he have a nice build! He is a fine specimen of a man, probably not as sculpted like her Papa, but she reminds him of those paintings of the fair archangels in their churches-
Alfred caught her looking at him strangely, "Um, are you alright? It seems it's the heat that is affecting your head."
"Oh stop it, Señor! You just repeated what I said!"
She blushed deeply once more; she swore she is not thinking of impure thoughts.
Oh she should stop thinking about this, but yet, there are no carnal thoughts involved in admiring someone's physique. What does Papa know? Sometimes he will walk around the walled city half-naked with his axe in tow--because there are times he cannot take the heat. He wouldn't mind if she sees him in that state.
Sometimes he is even proud of it. He once boasted that no nation super power have ever looked 'healthier' than he, which is also attributed to his tomato regimen. He would then refresh himself by getting soaked in the nearby batis and she would simply roll her eyes, unaware of his effect on the opposite sex until she hears giggles and sighs coming from female passer-by's.
Señor Alfred is not as sculpted like her Papa but...it's just, she never saw other men up to her current lifetime this close. He is a breath of fresh air, he is...different.
"I-it's nothing! I just never have much this contact with men, that's all!"
"How about your dad? Isn't that male contact?" he asked, looking at her curiously "--or when my dad carried you home, isn't that one too?"
Maria cannot believe it. He totally missed her point. At any rate, she refuses to explain it any further; she does not want him to know that she's infatuated with him.
"Never mind!"
"You're weird..."
They both sighed heavily.
"Miss..." Alfred finally breathes in, looking at her squarely in the eye. "You are the Conquistador's daughter and that's the reason why my dad is after you, correct?"
"Yes..." she answered, looking straight at him and deep in those clear blue luminscent pools of his. "You heard it right from your Papa. My father is his most despised rival, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, he would do anything to crush him and claim more land."
Alfred seems to stare into space, trying to search for words to say.
"I'm sorry," Maria continued, "--I know you are his son, but your father started this...he took my Papa away from me. He knew he will be away, so..."
"I think it's awesome!"
"W-what?!"
"My dad always have things like these planned out, he expected Carriedo, I mean your Father, to have nothing but sons and he prepared himself for that. He didn't expect you to be female, he never dealt with someone like you before, it was not in his plans, so technically he does not know what to do!"
Maria is confused now.
"Señor, you sound like you are happy with your Papa's predicament!"
"Happy? I'm amused!" he grinned broadly. "I really want to see how this goes! This never happened before!"
Alfred noticed her worried look, he suddenly felt sorry for her and somewhat, in some extent, guilty. He almost forgot that she got caught in a conflict that it's not her liking, and it involves his old man.
But he is bad on his choice of words, especially when it comes to consoling the opposite sex. Arthur Kirkland is good at this, but those 'three important words' won't work at this situation anymore.
"Look, like I said yesterday, my old man won't hurt you. You have nothing to worry about." he tried to console her, keeping his optimism. "Think of it as a learning experience, you will know more of the world because of him!"
"I supposed so..." she sniffed, wondering why he sound so assured, so fearless. But then again...he is his father's son as she was her father's daughter, they know well the men in their lives, those who raised them and thus, she have to trust him in this.
He then strikes a confident pose, "And someday, when you are ready, you can use that knowledge as a key to your..."
"key to my..?"
"...your...towards great things!" he paused, "...great things!"
He almost said independence.
She pouted, Senor Alfred is really starting to confuse her and she can feel that tingling sensation when they first met starting to disappear.
"By the way" he started to scratch his head sheepishly, "I forgot, I never got to ask your name!"
Maria nearly facepalmed, he just thought about that now? "Senor, you heard it...it's Las Islas Filipinas!"
"Oh yeah, it sounds like a manly name..."
She blushed, "My Papa thought I was a boy...he didn't ask me when he found me, he just named me immediately." She fiddled her fingers, “When he realized it, it was already too late.”
Alfred let out a low whistle, he have heard of the Conquistador's penchant for young boys. "Oh...I see"
"Don't give me that look…it's not funny!" she frowned, "What's your REAL name then, Señor Alfred Jones?"
"...America?" he said doubtfully, "Dad is thinking of adding something to it...since I think my relative or something claims he is an America too...I dunno."
She giggled. Maria cannot believe it. Not only is Alfred unsure of his real name, but the name itself sounds...
"That Señor, sounds like a very feminine name!"
“Hey!” Alfred frowned, “It’s going to be awesome once I get to formalize my whole name!” he then continued, “What I meant was, your other name. What’s your other name, Filipinas?”
She inhaled deeply, “It’s Maria Salome Consolacion delos Santos y Carriedo”
His eyes widened, and he sweatdropped “T-that’s an awfully long name.”
She nodded curtly, “Since I’m his only girl, Papa…made the most of it.”
“Hmm” Alfred rubbed his chin, getting into deep thought. “It’s hard to remember, you wouldn’t mind if I give you a nickname then?”
“Sure, go ahead Señor!”
“Oh and drop the formalities! I’m not that old!” he added, “Just call me, big bro Alfred, since we are going to be like siblings-if dad is really serious in adopting you.”
She frowned at the thought, siblings. She remembers her rambunctious brother who just lives near on where he was.
“I will call you Kuya then. Kuya Alfred!”
“Heh sure,” he smiled, “That sounds better. I will start calling you-Sally!”
Somehow Maria felt it’s not a good nickname.
“Oh!” she gasped, holding out the basket in front of him. “I almost forgot, I also got you some food! I was worried that you might be still up in the tree last night, but I think you have already eaten!”
“I wouldn’t mind having some more!” he grinned,
“Men!” she sighed, “You and your bottomless appetites!”
Her eyes darted warily at the surroundings, they are still well hidden near the alley but the red coats are still doing their rounds. It was then she heard a sudden spontaneous outburst of shouts and commotion, causing them to get distracted and run in a certain direction. Alfred saw the chance to sneak out, but without his ‘invisible’ disguise he have to be quick, he grabbed Maria’s basket and pulled her at the arm.
“Kuya!” she gasped, as they started to run. “They will see you!”
“No they won’t!” he called over his shoulder, confidently. “Let’s go back there!”
“Where?!”
“To that same place where we first met!” he answered, “They won’t dare to wander that far, no one will bother!”
“But, that’s where he caught me!”
“They won’t go back at the same place twice, trust me!”
They ran rushing towards the outskirts of the woods, it’s not that far away-but Alfred F. Jones didn’t count the fact that Maria’s footing cannot keep up with his wide-stride pace. She immediately tripped on a rock and fell face down on the ground. It was enough to get attention from a couple of soldiers; one of them unfortunately, immediately recognized her.
“There she is!” One of them shouted, “There is the bloody little girl the admiral is looking for, get her!”
“I’m not a little girl! I’m a lady!” she scowled, trying to get up. She can see the red coats closing in, and a helpless Alfred staring out from a distance.
She signaled him quietly to go ahead. After all, it was him who needs to hide. He is too important-if her people learn who he was, it will be-
Like he told her, she has to trust him. They wouldn’t go at the same place twice where he found her-and that’s where he is going.
At the back of her head, she wondered why she even bothered. This man is her father’s rival precious colony-she can use that to her advantage. So why?
“-You don’t do that again! Don’t ever DO THAT AGAIN!” he stared at her with his frightened green eyes, alighted with genuine worry. “Don’t you ever-“
She saw it briefly, the concern in the Señor Kirkland’s eyes-the concern of a worried father. She knows that, despite his shortcomings and although he doesn’t show it outwardly, her own Papa is also worried sick of her. The el Diablo too, will worry and will do whatever it takes if he learns one of his precious children went missing.
She worries too, that like her Papa, if he is going to hurt him if he learns what he did-running away for a silly adventure, not even aware of the seriousness of the situation.
But it seems he does not to share her Papa’s fiery temper. Alfred is right, there is still a lot she needs to know about the man currently in charge of her welfare.
“Think of it as a learning experience!” she recalled him say, ever exuberantly.
Kuya Alfred…
She is certain, that they will meet again
--
Meanwhile
After what seems to be ages, Arthur Kirkland finally got himself to take a bath. Sure, the situation is back to square one once again, but he also needs to clear his feverish mind and the hot climate is not making it any easier for him. At this rate, it will look like he needs to bathe at least 6 times a day.
Thank God, the tomato pervert’s quarters comes with a very nice bathroom. It still have the creepy portraits in it, but at least he gets to soak in his luxurious white tub, and the man have enough shaving blades to last an entire year. He did remember seeing him topless once during a rough sea battle, the man does have LOTS of body hair. Arthur blanched, he probably used them to shave his face constantly, which is the key to his boyish youthful glow.
He stood up, wrapped a towel around him and lathered up his face. He started to shave, imagining Antonio alongside Francis on the race to beat his superior naval fleets-the man probably does not have the time to consider his looks, and he is probably as hairy as a bear! He visualized the imagery and he starts snickering.
“Admiral, Sir!”
A soldier barged in all of a sudden, causing Arthur to accidentally nick himself with a blade. One of his eyebrows twitched.
“Private-“ he said in a deadly low voice, as the man turned blue. “This got to be important…or I will put a bloody hex on you and your kin!”
“Filipinas!” the man said, gasping for air. “They found Filipinas, Maria-she didn’t resist at all. They have her, she’s coming back!”
-- to be continued to chapter 4 --
Please kick my butt again, it seems I cannot finish this every time I said I’ll finish this. SIGH PAGE LIMIT. I got carried away with Antonio’s letter to Iggy. So now you get a multi-sub chaptered 3 and the real finale part four by Tuesday.
At the bright side, despite delays I will finish this fic by summer as promised.
Then comes the hard part of comic transition. vivalalixi is now the artist for this project. Which means I need to draft 90% of the story into page to page basis by June, since I’m opting a target release between September (or October the most) because I’m planning my resignation this 2010 in our printing company and this will be my last take with them.
Ohmai, also so many fics requests yet to be doneee ||OTL
PS. Me and damagectrl are planning to join our literary forces :D I just thought it’s a good idea-and the fact our OC’s and our fics are getting confused for sometime now OTL Once she gets back from ‘nam. Yeaaah.
I cannot believe it, I’m no way that awesome *A* My stuff is crack to begin with.
But curse the LJ limit, so I will up the rest on tuesday.
And it's ridiculous to put Pt.3.03 so that part will be Part.04
Title: 1762: Extranjero (Pt.03.02 - Love Story)
Author: silentside
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. Some mention of actual historical figures.
Warning: Unbetad. Long. Tsundereness. Some mild 'patriotism' in iggy's part.
Chapter Summary:
10. And lastly and most important of all, do not let her fall in love.
Arthur think he is going to have a migraine with all the minute details that Antonio have written how to look after Maria, not to mention the strike-out taunts about his looks and hygiene. He is half-tempted to tear it to pieces. But the last lines in the letter made him think about it twice.
Do not let her fall in love; when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
Part 01 - here (present period)
Part 02.01 - here (carriedo’s flashback)
Part 02.02 - here (iggy’s bad assness flashback and narrative)
Part 03.01 - here (iggy tsundereness and first encounters)
Part. 03.02 - Love Story
Arthur Kirkland you eyebrow demon and child thief,
How is a man like you, seasoned by centuries of strategic warfare didn't see one thing coming: Las Islas Filipinas is a young female, you goat. Are you starting to be senile? That’s good news for me then! Why on god's green earth do you think I called her "pearl of the orient"?
It might be too late to say this but I will say it anyway: don't you even dare touch my little girl. I mean you can hold her if she refuses to wear her panuelo or when she is being stubborn--what I mean was don't TOUCH her, that kind of TOUCH Francis told me you are more of a pervert than he can ever be and here you are accusing me as a pedophile and I mean it. Maria Salome-If you have known her name already, might be my only girl-but she is not my only child. I’m on a race trying to keep most of them from falling to your sick clutches hands as some of them, like her, have already had.
And since you readily admitted you personally foresaw the invasion of mi hija’s place, and dumb enough not even knowing who she really was-then it’s also your responsibility to look after. Yes, Arthur Kirkland, you are going to act as her father surrogate and you will understand why I always keep a keen eye on her. You will do so, until I find a way to have her back, me and Francis will get back to you, wait till you see, you snotty tea-drinking bastard
P.S. And since we are at the subject about being fathers, I suggest you read the next page of this letter-you must learn the facts and abide by these rules if you want to have a better understanding of my daughter.
Arthur fans himself furiously with his powdered wig as he read every detail of the letter. He silently fumed when he came to the next page, which the Spaniard deliberately wrote in painstakingly small curvy letters. He have to use a magnifying glass to transcribe the details beside him.
1. Any man not relatively acquainted with my hija cannot make any physical contact with her. They are only allowed to touch her hand, which they have to seek by asking her permission. You are not allowed to view much skin---even her bloody ankles, her arms the most--and her face only. You pride yourself as a man of refined manners and etiquette; I think you know how the rest works.
PS. There are instances she will wear her skirt above her knees and roll up her sleeves, but that will be the time if she will do her chores such as washing her clothes by the river and harvesting fruits and vegetables. Don't observe her without her knowledge, god forbid what impure thoughts that might fester in that head of yours.
2. You have already experienced first hand now how unpredictable climate in Filipinas is--as like any young female who constantly changes her mind. As it's been constantly and excessively cold in your place, Filipinas will ALWAYS be hot and humid. (I can now just imagine you getting the case of flu and getting flushed all over like an over ripe tomato rotting in a hot summer of March) Because of this, My hija wakes up to do her chores as early as 4 am in the morning, so by the time the sun is up and scorching the earth, her work will be done and she will have her siesta--in my language, that means she takes long afternoon naps. I usually don't condone napping during waking hours, but she-nevermind.
This is a heads up just in case your redcoats see her in unusual hours. Do not, I repeat, reprimand her for being lazy if she wakes up late in the afternoon-unless you want to be temporarily deaf for the rest of the week.
3. Another one of her responsibilities includes preparing meals to be cooked for the rest of the week, as a young lady she must learn and master everything at the domestic home front. You will not help her-she might appear to be a small delicate child but she is tough as nails and she can do this on her own. And for the love of god, do not feed her your cooking! If you insist on teaching her your cuisine, then you have to let her do the cooking, her own way. Mi hija can make anything taste good, regardless of what it’s made of. Ask for her balut, adobo or better yet, try her green mangoes with fish paste if you are man enough to tolerate smelling it within a 10 feet radius to see what I mean.
4. She gets easily confused and infatuated with extranjeros, especially the fair-skinned and light-haired ones. So don't be surprised if she addresses everyone with one name but your evil eyebrows however, will make you very distinct from them try to get her familiar with everyone because if you lose her, I will really shove my ax into you so hard that you can feel the resurgence of Catholicism in-just don’t lose her! You do that!
5. I’m trying to raise her to be a pious, god-fearing young lady, don’t confuse her with more religion!
6. She is still entering the thresholds of womanhood, and like any growing young girl she is moody and sensitive-try to not to be brutally honest with her because I know you are she will take it seriously at heart, even if your words means little to you. I hope she can start by poisoning your food or beat you with sticks while you sleep. Give her space if she needs it.
7. When my Maria is younger, I made it a routine to comb her long black hair every evening with coconut oil. I do so up to this day, in every chance I get to drop by the casa to bond with her. She usually have trouble sleeping if I don't do it, (it's not the same thing when I send my high-ranking men to do it *sigh*) I also sing her to sleep while I play my guitar. But now she has blossomed into womanhood, I have to do that outside.
Yes, You have to comb her hair with coconut oil every evening if you want her to sleep and be up and well in the morning. (But don't think you can bond with mi hija with THAT) I issued an order to one of my officers to foresee that one of my guardia sibils will have to be present when you do this, just in case you do something stupid.
About singing her to sleep, you can play whatever instrument you are good at instead. DON’T SING as much as don’t you even try to COOK for my hija. I heard from Francis your singing voice is so awful, that it’s enough to give grown men nightmares.
8. Learn to deal with her 'visitantes mensuales'--monthly visitor. Y-you must have heard of that, a woman's 'visitor'-usually marked with violent tantrums, abdominal cramps and exhaustion? You have to sew on those linen cloths in her disposable unmentionables in advance. It usually lasts only about a week, but the first (3) days she can use up to 6 changes--sometimes she stains her skirts too. Oh dear lord, I feel so awkward just saying this and to think that both of us are already used to seeing lots of blood in centuries of warfare, seizing lands and establishing new territories-but THIS
PS. She is not allowed to bathe while she have her 'visitante', I believe a woman bleeds so she will be cleansed from impure things she have taken in, and that's what I thought her since the day she had it. She's only allowed to wipe herself lightly with a sterilized cloth.
PSS. Before you question the hygiene, at least she does not bathe only TWICE a year or use wanton make-up to cover skin rashes and pass them for beauty marks unlike some people from a certain landmass that I know
9. She eats about four-five times a day. Three meals, which usually consists of rice-and meriendas. So do not be surprised if you quickly run out of tea and biscuits. She is a growing girl after all.
10. And lastly and most important of all, do not let her fall in love.
Arthur think he is going to have a migraine with all the minute details that Antonio have written how to look after Maria, not to mention the strike-out taunts about his looks and hygiene. He is half-tempted to tear it to pieces. But the last lines in the letter made him think about it twice.
Do not let her fall in love; when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
It could be any one-your men if they don't share your hideous eyebrows, your officers or-god forbid, it could be any of your children! If that happens, I'd rather have my empire fall than to have any one of those obnoxious spawns of yours try to...
Just...just nip it in the bud if this happens---do it for me, it's for the best.
Don't EVEN think of ignoring that last line. Lest you forget, you also have kids.
What if it's your hijo favorito in THAT predicament?
Signed,
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo
"He is a man, Carriedo. My Alfred got nothing to lose." Arthur murmured, as if he is talking to the Spaniard as he scanned through the transcribed message.
"Let's see how fast you can recover while I have your very valuable daughter in my charge."
He then rubbed his eyes and rested his head at the back of the chair; he can't believe the length he have to put down in ink. He then glanced at what used to be Antonio's desk, he already took down the 'familia' photo from it's frame and re-assessed it: there is the Spaniard standing majestically in front of his Galleons, with two of his precious children in tow, the ones that made him a proud dad-because thanks to them he became an established colonial super power. There is the rough-looking young Alfonso Hernandez, who is crudely picking his nose and the young Maria, whose discomfort is obvious as her Papa made her wear truckload of fabrics.
“Poor little girl, made to wear all that layers in such abysmal climate-“
Maybe it’s not the layers, as Arthur noticed how translucently thin most of her coverings are. It’s probably out of formality’s sake-since it’s a solemn take after all. Only Alfonso ruined the take. Sons. They are a handful-but after what he read in his rival’s letter, it seems that raising a daughter is equally just as stressful.
He remembers how hard it’s to get Alfred to wear nice clothes.
Or even have his hair cut short.
Or get his ass moving to have his room cleaned.
Or getting him to finish his food-and to wash after it.
But there is no question that when it comes to taking a bath, he does it immediately.
But he takes his pet dog with him.
Arthur facepalmed. Deep inside he is wondering how his own colony from the far side of the world is faring.
He looked back at the photo once again. He only had Maria-if it’s not risky, he would also have Alfonso, and with that he can surely and thoroughly cripple Carriedo.
He remembered faintly seeing a galleon slipping off to safety when they attacked Filipinas’s shores-he thought if he have one of the boys to be under him it’s good enough: with it’s rich vast resources and not to mention manpower, he can get the boy to work directly under him. But instead he got a girl, who is as temperamental and as moody as the constant climate changes in her place.
Then for no particular reason a strange imagery materialized in his weary mind. Alfred and Maria. Both are inherent stubborn, full of boundless energy and raging hormones. Maria can stand her ground against almost any man, as she showed little fear when she pelted a mango in the face of the personification of Great Britain.
But then again there's no chance in hell will the two meet each other, if one even considers the distance. And of course he and Carriedo as their parents. That does not need explaining any more. He would rather impale his ass on a cactus than to be in same room with that fruit.
"What the bloody hell is this, 10 simple rules how to raise my teenage daughter?!" he scowled, tossing the photo frame back at the desk again and getting back at the task at hand. Antonio's method of raising her involves lots of pampering-and lots of housework, both varying extremes.
Not to mention how he constantly defers to religion when he talks about her as this 'blossoming lady'. His thick eyebrows furrowed once more, trying to organize the words that he will say to her later. Maria didn't say a single word to him ever since he retrieved her yesterday from that mango tree. She didn't eat dinner and without looking him in the eye, silently excused herself to her old room--with his redcoats securing the entire parameter. He won't risk her escaping again.
“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!“
So Antonio made her believe that he really is a monster? Well he will show him, he can be a better father to this little girl. He won't strike her over unnecessary things. One can give tough love without resorting to physical punishment just to prove authority.
But first, he needs to appease her, to show her that even being under his rule he can be just and fair.
He starts to tap his fingers impatiently on the desk
And he turns blue, placing both palms on his face.
Oh god, he does not know what to give to a young lady.
"Flowers? I'm not exactly courting her. I doubt if they even have chocolate truffles..." he grumbled, fidgeting slightly. He scanned the room for ideas, but it’s filled with nothing but drawing plans, maps, portraits of Antonio’s children and a basket of tomatoes. Nothing came. "Hmm, what to give...what to give..."
Arthur remembers the dog that Alfred always takes with him every time they bath. He gave it to him as a puppy when he is still a boy, a little apology gift after they have a silly argument and he almost ran away.
"By George, that's it! Nobody can resists having cuddly pets, I will give her a puppy!" He lit up, but then paused again. "But wait, she is a lass...maybe a kitten? Nah, not at this weather... no...hmm, a pony! Yes! yes, a pony!" Arthur sat up and starts to rub his fingers, visualizing the imagery with intensity. He knows how young women back in his place fawn for pretty things; a white pony will be perfect!
Arthur stood up, his expression determined and his voice resonating in the whole room. "That's it, I will get her a white pony! She will love it, every young lass loves a pony!"
He then glanced on his side, gazing at the empty space. It's been awhile since he conjured up his friends of supernatural origins. They usually advise him and give him brilliant suggestions in moments like this.
Nothing.
"Now, where did everyone go?" he remarked out loud, disappointed. "I know the heat in the tropics is unbearable, but this is ridiculous!"
"Admiral Kirkland, sir. We're outside."
Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected response and turned around to see one of his grim-faced redcoats peeking inside the room. He must have been too loud and didn't realize it. He blushed scarlet.
"T-this is nothing!" he stammered, his green gaze furious. "Get back to your post, soldier--no wait, don't close the door, I'm going out!"
Reluctantly, the solider nodded. Just when the Englishman walked past them, they started to follow him.
"No, no...Don’t follow me. Get back to your posts." he called off, "I'm not going out today."
"But sir, you just said..."
"--of the house. I'm not going out of the house!" he grumbled, "I'm going to need Dawson, where the bloody hell is he?"
"Sir, he is overseeing the reconstruction of the damage walls of the hou...citadel." The other soldier responded, looking clearly disturbed. He never saw the Admiral this...distracted.
"I see.." Arthur answered, and snapped his fingers. "Well then, tell him to meet me back inside. I need to talk to him."
And with that, the blonde dismissed them and retreated once again to Antonio's private quarters.
"I think Sir Kirkland is losing his marbles.” one of the soldiers commented, "I never saw him in such a flustered state ever since he learned that Sir Carriedo have a daughter-and now he is talking to himself about ponies!"
"You should have seen his reaction when she pelted a mango on his face!"
"Oh, I heard about that yesterday! She even insulted his eyebrows, right? It’s like she is asking for a death wish!"
And without warning, Arthur opened the door behind them. His expression was dark. The soldiers turned blue when he gave each a long hard glare.
"If both the two of you want to live longer, make yourselves useful, hurry up and get me Dawson!"
"Y-yes sir! Admiral, sir!"
As the red coats scampered away, Arthur let out a weary sigh and heads back to his desk. He took out a photo from his coat pocket. At times like this, even though he hated to admit it, but he is missing that brat he left half-way around the world.
There he was standing side by side with Alfred, who, ever since entering puberty have a sudden growth spurt--he have surpassed him in terms of height. He is brandishing that silly smile, wearing the nice clothes he gave him in a rough manner, and his long ponytail neatly tied back. God, he hated the fact Alfred wants to keep his hair long--the lad probably does not know it yet, but with his hair down, he just looked like his brother.
The poor thing have the unfortunate luck to be raised under that frog's tutelage, which leads Arthur to wonder what kind of trauma Bonnefoy have inflicted to poor Matthieu, when he found the boy shaking and behaving quite passively when he claimed him as a part of his conquest. If not for their contrasting personalities and one of them wearing glasses, he cannot tell the difference.
Thank god he convinced the git to wear his hair in a pony tail.
He then took the family photo of Maria from the desk and pressed the two photos together. Good lord, they might be about the same age but she is so petite...she barely even reached Alfred's shoulders. He grimaced, he is beside Alfred and Maria is beside Antonio, they look disgruntled in-laws.
"What am I thinking?!" he scowled once more, "This might be the heat talking...I think I need to take off my coat.."
--
Meanwhile near the outskirts of the woods
"Unghh"
Alfred F. Jones woke up early that morning scratching head, wondering how he ends up face down on the damp grassy ground. He seemed okay, his nose is not broken and every limb on his body seems intact. It slowly registered him where he was-when he saw some curious young brown-skinned locals attempting to poke him with a branch and was about to steal his shoes.
"Hey, bugger off!"
They jumped, surprised to find the white stranger alive and started to run away from him screaming.
"Bugger off?" he mumbled, "Damn, I'm starting to sound like my old man."
He immediately stood up and dusts himself off. Alfred remembered the events that happened yesterday, the exchange of angry shouts as the young lady-whom he learned happens to be the Spanish Conquistador’s daughter, and his old man, Arthur Kirkland. He does not know whether to laugh or feel sorry for Arthur-he have talked about how his bosses would like to expand it’s vast empire, as if there is not enough children colonies to look after. And one day found a way to cripple his long time formidable rival, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, by seizing two of his important children colonies. He overlooked the fact that one of them is a stubborn high-spirited female who pelts mangoes with deadly accuracy. He knows for a fact that Arthur never dealt with feisty young female colonies before-and that’s when the rare nurturing side of him shows.
Now his first objective, he have to eat something if he is to survive in this foreign terrain. He wasn’t able to enjoy the mangoes yesterday. “Man, I’m still hungry-I need to eat some actual food.” He whined, picking up one of the half-skinned mangoes off the ground. He squinted his eyes and cried out loud, “What can I actually have here for actual fooddd?”
Mumbling, he re-tied his messy ponytail and dusts off the leaves and dirt from his blonde locks. Alfred then proceeds to aimlessly walk towards the nearby town, unmindful of the locals who will stop briefly to look at him with fear, spite or curiosity. His strange clothes, his tall build, fair skin and light-colored hair made him stand out like a sore thumb and thanks to Arthur’s invasion of the archipelago, a little less than welcome.
“Hmmm!” he sniffed, smelling something heavenly in the air. He followed the delicious scent in a near-hypnotic state, not realizing the people are parting away nervously from him. He came across what seems to be a baker’s shop, men taking out small bread rolls about the size of fists from the stoned ovens while others mold the flour for the next batch.
“Bread!” he squeals in childish delight, rushing towards it. “Finally a food that I know, bread!”
In his halting Spanish, Alfred approached and greeted one of the panaderos.
“Buenos…dias!”
The blonde then starts to make strange hand gestures as he asks them slowly in his Spanish to what kind of bread they are selling. Nervously, the man dropped everything and called for what he assumed is the manager of the establishment, smartly dressed-and from what he assumed, an illustrado.
“I speak your English, Señor.” The man replied in his tongue, trying to be calm. “I hear you are talking to one of my men. You want our pan de sal?”
“Pan de…what?”
“Salted bread.”
“Yes!” he sighed in relief, and turning around to search for his pockets “I would like to have some bread, please! I know I don’t have much--”
The man shoved two bagful of ‘pan de sal’ to him. “No, you take it-free!”
“But sir!” Alfred objected, as he reluctantly took them. The manager also tossed what seemed to be bottled fruit preserves as well. “I have to pay you at least something!”
“No, you’re English, you can have it for free--!”
Alfred bit a piece of bread to his mouth and reached to one of his pockets. He can see the manager and his men looking around anxiously on his side and he turned around, to see a group of red coats approaching.
“Oh fut, dy dnt gnaw ym hr! (Oh shoot, they don’t know I’m here!)” he panicked, as he chewed on the bread and reached into his pocket. He tossed the only valuable he can barter for the food: a gold pocket watch.
“Here, my friend!” he swallowed, adjusting finally the weight of the bags of both pan de sals in his arms. “It’s made out of the real thing, thanks for the bread!”
Alfred then runs away, disappearing quickly among the local crowd and into the streets before the red coats can even take a glimpse of him. He managed to find himself a good hiding spot behind among merchants who peddles their wares through big horse-drawn caravans. He thanked the heavens that they are all too exhausted or resting to even bother with a half-starved white man wolfing down a bag of bread, dipping them into all the opened bottles of preserves, tasting everything.
“Oh god,” he rolled his eyes, savoring the taste. “How can this be salted bread, it just have the right amount of sweetness in it!” he chomped,
“They must call it sweet bread!”
He dipped one of them again, “This is all awesome! Guava jam? I don’t know what that is, but it tastes great!” He moved to the other, “Isn’t the coconut stuff supposed to be white? But what the hell!”
When he felt that he have his fill, Alfred rubbed his tummy and let out a loud belch. He ran out of the delicious fruit preserves and he still got another bag of them to eat.
“Hmm, they are tasty to be eaten as is anyway!”
Now with his first objective done, comes the second. He must dodge the red coats. Arthur will go ballistic if he learns of his presence in his occupied territory. The key is to be invisible or at least go undetected.
//-//
“Alfred, this is Matthieu-your brother.“
“Who?” he blinked, looking up from his hefty serving of pancakes.
“I’m Matthieu.”
“Wow, is that a talking polar bear?”
“I also like pancakes…that goes well with maple syrup. I have some, eh.”
“Who are you?”
Arthur facepalmed. The soft-spoken and well-dressed Matthieu shifted uncomfortably-he is indeed holding a polar bear and didn’t say anything when Alfred ignored him.
//-//
Alfred grinned, that might be the only encounter he remembered-but if he can also remember it clearly, the fellow resembled him so much that they could pass as twins. The funny thing is, everybody keeps forgetting him-or not being able to notice him.
“Heheh!”
Maybe also because, Alfred himself exudes far more awesomeness than this dude could ever have. At any rate, he gingerly pulled off his ponytail and messed up his hair, letting his locks fall down at place. He grabbed a pair of glasses among the merchant’s wares and wore it, rolled his sleeves down and buttoned his vest up. He took up the last bag of bread and glanced at a round mirror hanging at one of the caravans. Perfect.
“Nobody will recognize me now, eh?”
--
“A pony?”
Arthur folded his fingers thoughtfully underneath his chin, “Yes, a white pony. Don’t you think it’s perfect?”
He didn’t like the way his subordinate look at him, “What?”
“Sir, you haven’t slept for days.” Dawson finally replied, noting the dark circles underneath Arthur’s eyes. “Appeasing the Conquistador’s daughter by giving her a-pony?”
“White pony!”
“-a white pony.” He corrected himself, “Sir Kirkland, surely there are other ways to win her trust other than having to transport a young animal from half-way around the world!”
Arthur is flushed, how can Antonio stand the temperature? “But young women her age likes to fawn over pets! Puppies and Kittens are out of the equation! How about our horses? One of them could be pregnant!”
“Sir, we use stallions. All are incapable of bre-“
“I know, exotic birds!”
“She might catch a bird flu. Exotic wild life is not advisable for-”
Arthur gave Dawson a long hard glare. He is starting to sweat profusely and have loosened his shirt. He is running out of ideas, the heat is unbearable and he brought his palms to his face again.
“If I may speak, sir?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Try talking to her, she haven’t left her room since last evening.”
He inhaled deeply, moving his face up, his emerald eyes gazing out of his palms. “I think I’ll give it a try.”
“And also sir, you can try giving her flowers. There are some tall shrubs of white colored hibiscus outside and-”
He flared up, standing up defensively. “It’s not like I’m courting her! Don’t you think I considered that?”
Dawson lifted an eyebrow, “Sir, giving someone flowers does not exactly mean you have romantic inclinations.” He then took out what he had been hiding behind his back, three stalks of white colored hibiscus. “It can mean many things with the proper words-“ Arthur frowned and reluctantly took them, “-one can start with saying, I’m sorry everything is going to be all right.”
“Hmph, I never knew you know women well, Dawson.” He remarked, sniffing on the flowers. “It’s probably a clever idea having you installed here after all.”
The doors swung wide open once again, it’s one of the soldiers outside, “Sir Kirkland!”
“What? My goodness man, have you heard of knocking?!”
The soldier stared at them quizzically, it was a strange sight, the acting Governor and the personification of the great country facing each other and holding a small bouquet of flowers.
Arthur blushed and grabbed the white hibiscus furiously and faced the confused soldier.
“Sir, she have escaped! Fili-I mean Maria, she escaped!”
“That’s impossible! I have every man securing the parameters!” he growled, storming outside angrily. They followed suit. “How did this happen? Is she that small that you didn’t see her come out?”
They came upon her room, soldiers are inside her quarters and one of the red coats approached him nervously, with him are Maria’s clothes from yesterday.
“She probably disguised herself, Admiral Kirkland.”
“With what?!”
He followed the soldier’s gaze and saw an open trunk of clothes, which seems to have been dragged from the adjoining room-Antonio’s. Furiously, he sifted through the trunk and the scattered contents on the floor. He saw a pair of scissors, a sewing kit and lifted cut out fabrics to which are once a part of the Spaniard’s shirt. He placed all the excess fabrics together, analyzing to what he assume will be that of a whole outfit.
“Why that-git! Now she is a bloody crossdresser?!”
“S-sir?”
Arthur stood up, facing an anxious Dawson and a small crowd of worried soldiers.
“Gentlemen, we are now going to look for a lass disguising herself as a smaller version of her father.” He said, thumbing on a small white fabric.
“White shirt, dark red sash on the hips, brown slacks. Probably wearing boots and a light brown coat.” He paused briefly, “Most likely she’ll be wearing her father’s hat to hide all that hair.”
When they didn’t respond immediately, he frowned once more, “What are you all waiting for?” he barked, and they quickly scampered off.
“Search for her right this bloody instant! We can’t afford to lose her! Do I have to do everything around here?!”
By the time everybody left, Arthur found himself banging his fist and his forehead against the wall. Oh god, this-this girl is starting to be a handful!
“Aargghh!”
Dawson sweat dropped. He took the Spaniard’s letter and his Admiral’s transcribed notes in one folder with him before they left the room. Maybe they’re missing out something.
“Do you think that tomato pervert left out something in his letters?” Arthur asked, the red welt on his head is starting to show. “Because I’m certainly not warned about his daughter cross dressing!”
Dawson skimmed briefly at the last page, adjusting his glasses. “Actually sir, you might have missed something-“
“Well, what is it?”
“P.S. I almost forgot one detail-my daughter likes to climb trees, an unfortunate unladylike habit she have developed when I allowed her to participate in several games in town fiestas.”
“That’s old news! I found her on the top of a bloody mango tree yesterday!”
“-you must remove the mango tree outside in her front room. Don’t chop it off, re-plant it somewhere. I keep forgetting it. Lest you want her to sneak out, which has always been my problem ever since she entered puberty.”
The mango tree is still outside, near her room. The sliding windows are open.
Arthur Kirkland does not know whether he shall scream, go after her immediately or both.
--
The news of her second escape attempt spread through the ranks like wildfire, the city starts to buzz with activity as officers in command handed out to their subordinates rough sketches of a cleverly disguised Maria, as they spread out from the walled city to the neighboring barrios and among the locale, getting to line up and inspect people in the streets, mostly young boys below 18...and those with hats.
"They bloody all look alike!" one soldier remarked exasperatedly, wiping his sweaty brow as he let a young boy go after lifting out his sombrero.
"What if she cuts off her hair, what now?"
The other soldier sheepishly scratched his head, "--we feel them up for...woman parts?"
"Oh Bollocks, no way will I do that!"
Maria snickered, restraining the urge to burst out laughing as she heard the conservation not so far away from where she is hiding. She was grateful that the panaderos from the bakeshop recognized her and let her sneak in, allowing her to change her clothes immediately. She knows that sooner or later Inglaterra's men are going to find out, but they expected her to be still in her male disguise.
Maria swept her hair into a bun and tied a bandana over her head, rolling out the sleeves of her lose terno, she is going out wearing her simple 'farm girl' attire.
She felt sorry that she have to ruin her Papa's good clothes, "Please watch them for me...kuya" she begged, hiding the make-shift clothes among the sacks of flour, before pulling out a small basket from her small duffel bag. "I will try to get back at them later, if I can."
"Why don't you stay here for awhile, Senorita?" the well-dressed manager called out, "Please, it's dangerous out there. He will find you!"
"He will find me sooner or later!" she answered in a hurried manner, “This is not about me escaping him…” Her voice trails off, “I need to meet someone who might need my help-“
“Your help?”
She envisioned the fair-skinned extranjero, the blue-eyed Señor Alfred having passed out at the tree from starvation. Maria almost forgot about him when his ‘father’, Señor Arthur caught her and took her home. Oh god, what if he have fallen asleep and fell down the tree? Well, technically he can’t die-
But what if he woke up and wandered among the locals? What if they learned of his true nature, what then? And what if his father’s men have found about his little ‘seafaring adventure’?
She found herself reminiscing, when he was gawking at her with those wide-blue eyes of his.
“Miss, who is your father?”
Oh dios mio, why can’t she stop thinking about him?
Maria can almost feel her cheeks heating up. Her Papa always thought her to keep away from ‘impure thoughts’ when it comes to the opposite sex. But there is nothing impure about this-she just longed to see him again, she can’t just leave a half-starved man out there.
Could it be that this is her first-?
“Kuya,” she turned to one of the men, “Can I have some of your baked goods, please? I will try to pay you back!”
“There is no need to pay us back, Señorita!” the man replied, “Take as much as you can carry!”
Maria filled her small basket with the bread and other baked goods, before finally heading out to the street and to the busy barrio. She tried blending with the women folk, concealing her face now and then with her basket when she sees the red coats, as they made their rounds and as they searched for her. They are still looking for a girl masquerading as a smaller version of her father.
It did not take that long for Maria to find him, she just got off from a calesa and was on her way to where she left him when there he was, wearing a poor disguise: His locks were set loose, he is wearing glasses and his clothes are buttoned up and without a care in the world, walks about carrying one bagful of bread in one arm, munching away as he observed the locals-and being ignored by the red coats! It was like he is not even there!
Frantically, she tried to make eye contact and slowly approached him.
“Señor Alfred!” she called out, in a low cautious voice. “Señor Alfred!”
Alfred spun around, his eyes widening in recognition.
“Señor Alfred! What are you doing?!” she asked, as the blonde quickly hurried to her side, pulling her at a nearby corner. “I have been looking all over for you! And where did you get that?!”
“Shh!” he hushed her, “As long as I’m dressed up like this, my old man’s men won’t recognize me!”
She gave him a confused look, “How is that even possible?!”
He rolled his eyes and pointed his fingers to his face “I have a relative or something that look like this in my get up and people didn’t notice him-it’s like he has an invisible effect and well it works! ”
“Ah, you have twin brother!” she remarked, “-and he is invisible? Maybe you mean he is imaginary. The heat probably has gotten into your head, Señor Alfred!”
“No, it did not!” he snapped, pulling her farther away and deeper into the narrow alleys. “-look, its complicated, but either way it helped me sneak away from them… ” he frowned, finally away from the prying eyes of the suspicious locals and red coats. Alfred resumed tying back his hair into a neat ponytail, loosened his vest and rolled up his sleeves; he then unbuttoned his shirt up to his chest and fanned himself furiously.
All this and Maria Salome silently watched him, staring in wonder. Not only is this extranjero fair, but also he have a nice build! He is a fine specimen of a man, probably not as sculpted like her Papa, but she reminds him of those paintings of the fair archangels in their churches-
Alfred caught her looking at him strangely, "Um, are you alright? It seems it's the heat that is affecting your head."
"Oh stop it, Señor! You just repeated what I said!"
She blushed deeply once more; she swore she is not thinking of impure thoughts.
Oh she should stop thinking about this, but yet, there are no carnal thoughts involved in admiring someone's physique. What does Papa know? Sometimes he will walk around the walled city half-naked with his axe in tow--because there are times he cannot take the heat. He wouldn't mind if she sees him in that state.
Sometimes he is even proud of it. He once boasted that no nation super power have ever looked 'healthier' than he, which is also attributed to his tomato regimen. He would then refresh himself by getting soaked in the nearby batis and she would simply roll her eyes, unaware of his effect on the opposite sex until she hears giggles and sighs coming from female passer-by's.
Señor Alfred is not as sculpted like her Papa but...it's just, she never saw other men up to her current lifetime this close. He is a breath of fresh air, he is...different.
"I-it's nothing! I just never have much this contact with men, that's all!"
"How about your dad? Isn't that male contact?" he asked, looking at her curiously "--or when my dad carried you home, isn't that one too?"
Maria cannot believe it. He totally missed her point. At any rate, she refuses to explain it any further; she does not want him to know that she's infatuated with him.
"Never mind!"
"You're weird..."
They both sighed heavily.
"Miss..." Alfred finally breathes in, looking at her squarely in the eye. "You are the Conquistador's daughter and that's the reason why my dad is after you, correct?"
"Yes..." she answered, looking straight at him and deep in those clear blue luminscent pools of his. "You heard it right from your Papa. My father is his most despised rival, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, he would do anything to crush him and claim more land."
Alfred seems to stare into space, trying to search for words to say.
"I'm sorry," Maria continued, "--I know you are his son, but your father started this...he took my Papa away from me. He knew he will be away, so..."
"I think it's awesome!"
"W-what?!"
"My dad always have things like these planned out, he expected Carriedo, I mean your Father, to have nothing but sons and he prepared himself for that. He didn't expect you to be female, he never dealt with someone like you before, it was not in his plans, so technically he does not know what to do!"
Maria is confused now.
"Señor, you sound like you are happy with your Papa's predicament!"
"Happy? I'm amused!" he grinned broadly. "I really want to see how this goes! This never happened before!"
Alfred noticed her worried look, he suddenly felt sorry for her and somewhat, in some extent, guilty. He almost forgot that she got caught in a conflict that it's not her liking, and it involves his old man.
But he is bad on his choice of words, especially when it comes to consoling the opposite sex. Arthur Kirkland is good at this, but those 'three important words' won't work at this situation anymore.
"Look, like I said yesterday, my old man won't hurt you. You have nothing to worry about." he tried to console her, keeping his optimism. "Think of it as a learning experience, you will know more of the world because of him!"
"I supposed so..." she sniffed, wondering why he sound so assured, so fearless. But then again...he is his father's son as she was her father's daughter, they know well the men in their lives, those who raised them and thus, she have to trust him in this.
He then strikes a confident pose, "And someday, when you are ready, you can use that knowledge as a key to your..."
"key to my..?"
"...your...towards great things!" he paused, "...great things!"
He almost said independence.
She pouted, Senor Alfred is really starting to confuse her and she can feel that tingling sensation when they first met starting to disappear.
"By the way" he started to scratch his head sheepishly, "I forgot, I never got to ask your name!"
Maria nearly facepalmed, he just thought about that now? "Senor, you heard it...it's Las Islas Filipinas!"
"Oh yeah, it sounds like a manly name..."
She blushed, "My Papa thought I was a boy...he didn't ask me when he found me, he just named me immediately." She fiddled her fingers, “When he realized it, it was already too late.”
Alfred let out a low whistle, he have heard of the Conquistador's penchant for young boys. "Oh...I see"
"Don't give me that look…it's not funny!" she frowned, "What's your REAL name then, Señor Alfred Jones?"
"...America?" he said doubtfully, "Dad is thinking of adding something to it...since I think my relative or something claims he is an America too...I dunno."
She giggled. Maria cannot believe it. Not only is Alfred unsure of his real name, but the name itself sounds...
"That Señor, sounds like a very feminine name!"
“Hey!” Alfred frowned, “It’s going to be awesome once I get to formalize my whole name!” he then continued, “What I meant was, your other name. What’s your other name, Filipinas?”
She inhaled deeply, “It’s Maria Salome Consolacion delos Santos y Carriedo”
His eyes widened, and he sweatdropped “T-that’s an awfully long name.”
She nodded curtly, “Since I’m his only girl, Papa…made the most of it.”
“Hmm” Alfred rubbed his chin, getting into deep thought. “It’s hard to remember, you wouldn’t mind if I give you a nickname then?”
“Sure, go ahead Señor!”
“Oh and drop the formalities! I’m not that old!” he added, “Just call me, big bro Alfred, since we are going to be like siblings-if dad is really serious in adopting you.”
She frowned at the thought, siblings. She remembers her rambunctious brother who just lives near on where he was.
“I will call you Kuya then. Kuya Alfred!”
“Heh sure,” he smiled, “That sounds better. I will start calling you-Sally!”
Somehow Maria felt it’s not a good nickname.
“Oh!” she gasped, holding out the basket in front of him. “I almost forgot, I also got you some food! I was worried that you might be still up in the tree last night, but I think you have already eaten!”
“I wouldn’t mind having some more!” he grinned,
“Men!” she sighed, “You and your bottomless appetites!”
Her eyes darted warily at the surroundings, they are still well hidden near the alley but the red coats are still doing their rounds. It was then she heard a sudden spontaneous outburst of shouts and commotion, causing them to get distracted and run in a certain direction. Alfred saw the chance to sneak out, but without his ‘invisible’ disguise he have to be quick, he grabbed Maria’s basket and pulled her at the arm.
“Kuya!” she gasped, as they started to run. “They will see you!”
“No they won’t!” he called over his shoulder, confidently. “Let’s go back there!”
“Where?!”
“To that same place where we first met!” he answered, “They won’t dare to wander that far, no one will bother!”
“But, that’s where he caught me!”
“They won’t go back at the same place twice, trust me!”
They ran rushing towards the outskirts of the woods, it’s not that far away-but Alfred F. Jones didn’t count the fact that Maria’s footing cannot keep up with his wide-stride pace. She immediately tripped on a rock and fell face down on the ground. It was enough to get attention from a couple of soldiers; one of them unfortunately, immediately recognized her.
“There she is!” One of them shouted, “There is the bloody little girl the admiral is looking for, get her!”
“I’m not a little girl! I’m a lady!” she scowled, trying to get up. She can see the red coats closing in, and a helpless Alfred staring out from a distance.
She signaled him quietly to go ahead. After all, it was him who needs to hide. He is too important-if her people learn who he was, it will be-
Like he told her, she has to trust him. They wouldn’t go at the same place twice where he found her-and that’s where he is going.
At the back of her head, she wondered why she even bothered. This man is her father’s rival precious colony-she can use that to her advantage. So why?
“-You don’t do that again! Don’t ever DO THAT AGAIN!” he stared at her with his frightened green eyes, alighted with genuine worry. “Don’t you ever-“
She saw it briefly, the concern in the Señor Kirkland’s eyes-the concern of a worried father. She knows that, despite his shortcomings and although he doesn’t show it outwardly, her own Papa is also worried sick of her. The el Diablo too, will worry and will do whatever it takes if he learns one of his precious children went missing.
She worries too, that like her Papa, if he is going to hurt him if he learns what he did-running away for a silly adventure, not even aware of the seriousness of the situation.
But it seems he does not to share her Papa’s fiery temper. Alfred is right, there is still a lot she needs to know about the man currently in charge of her welfare.
“Think of it as a learning experience!” she recalled him say, ever exuberantly.
Kuya Alfred…
She is certain, that they will meet again
--
Meanwhile
After what seems to be ages, Arthur Kirkland finally got himself to take a bath. Sure, the situation is back to square one once again, but he also needs to clear his feverish mind and the hot climate is not making it any easier for him. At this rate, it will look like he needs to bathe at least 6 times a day.
Thank God, the tomato pervert’s quarters comes with a very nice bathroom. It still have the creepy portraits in it, but at least he gets to soak in his luxurious white tub, and the man have enough shaving blades to last an entire year. He did remember seeing him topless once during a rough sea battle, the man does have LOTS of body hair. Arthur blanched, he probably used them to shave his face constantly, which is the key to his boyish youthful glow.
He stood up, wrapped a towel around him and lathered up his face. He started to shave, imagining Antonio alongside Francis on the race to beat his superior naval fleets-the man probably does not have the time to consider his looks, and he is probably as hairy as a bear! He visualized the imagery and he starts snickering.
“Admiral, Sir!”
A soldier barged in all of a sudden, causing Arthur to accidentally nick himself with a blade. One of his eyebrows twitched.
“Private-“ he said in a deadly low voice, as the man turned blue. “This got to be important…or I will put a bloody hex on you and your kin!”
“Filipinas!” the man said, gasping for air. “They found Filipinas, Maria-she didn’t resist at all. They have her, she’s coming back!”
-- to be continued to chapter 4 --
Please kick my butt again, it seems I cannot finish this every time I said I’ll finish this. SIGH PAGE LIMIT. I got carried away with Antonio’s letter to Iggy. So now you get a multi-sub chaptered 3 and the real finale part four by Tuesday.
At the bright side, despite delays I will finish this fic by summer as promised.
Then comes the hard part of comic transition. vivalalixi is now the artist for this project. Which means I need to draft 90% of the story into page to page basis by June, since I’m opting a target release between September (or October the most) because I’m planning my resignation this 2010 in our printing company and this will be my last take with them.
Ohmai, also so many fics requests yet to be doneee ||OTL
PS. Me and damagectrl are planning to join our literary forces :D I just thought it’s a good idea-and the fact our OC’s and our fics are getting confused for sometime now OTL Once she gets back from ‘nam. Yeaaah.
I cannot believe it, I’m no way that awesome *A* My stuff is crack to begin with.