Alfred, Part 1

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Notes: This story is a human AU which will probably serve as background for other stories I might write. It's going to be 4–5 chapters long. I wanted to try a bit of a different style, more fragmented than usual, but I think I succeeded only in part, and not in this chapter. I hope it's not too bad. It's also my first time writing something so long from Arthur's POV, I hope I haven't messed up!

Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to its creator Hidekaz Himaruya, credits for the picture at the top of this chapter go to ^ヮ^(http://drawr.net/2cm) 

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Alfred, Part One

In retrospect, Alistair would say that it was all Arthur's fault. Arthur would deny, of course, because he wouldn't agree with Alistair even under torture, but when he was alone, without his older brother's grin tormenting him, the boy would recognize that yes, he had certainly played a hand in the events that had followed. And the thought was always accompanied by a spark of pride, because, unlike his older brothers, Arthur could see what truly mattered: he could see the way their mother's eyes sparkled now, the way her smile was more genuine, her features finally lacking the tension that had hardened them for so many years. It hadn't always been like that.

It wasn't like that the day everything was put into motion, a warm morning of June when Summer's temperatures and bright sun were timidly starting to make themselves seen. Arthur had felt blessed for the presence of the air conditioning that cooled down the rooms and corridors of the university, making him forget the humid heat he had complained about outside. And it wasn't only that: the university building was incredibly interesting, in the humble opinion of a ten-year-old. It was a maze of ample corridors sided by grand walls adorned with low reliefs and motives that exuded a note of solemnity, almost reminding Arthur of some old buildings from home, with the high windows opening on a cloudless sky that gave no indication of the location. If Arthur pretended hard enough, he could almost imagine that he was still in England.

The architecture wasn't the only interesting thing, however. Somebody seemed almost to have feared that people could forget they were inside a university instead of a random old building, and had done his best to remind them. The halls and corridors were invaded by boards with colourful posters and displays that highlighted the activities of the university, such a rich display of knowledge and trivia that Arthur's head was almost spinning, he didn't quite know where to look to absorb all that information.

A series of panels about an expedition in Egypt was the cause of the boy's ultimate downfall. What he did was nothing special: he merely stopped to have a closer look at the pictures and found himself completely engrossed in the explanation. Yet such an apparently harmless, insignificant action led to unforeseen consequences of much bigger magnitude.

After reading one of the panels, Arthur turned to show his mother the discovery, his lips curled into an excited smile – only to find an empty space next to him. The boy needed a moment to process the unexpected information, then his eyes quickly roamed over the corridor, widening, his features slowly shifting from excitement to horror as his stomach coiled with dread.

"Mum?" he tried to call fearfully, his voice wavering, but deep down, Arthur already knew that it was useless: his mother's bright red hair was hard to miss, and there weren't many people around the corridor. Two girls were chatting next to a door, a young man was walking at a brisk pace, but there was no trace of red. If Arthur couldn't see his mother, it meant that she wasn't there.

And neither was Alistair, who had left even earlier to check on something – Arthur hadn't even been listening to him. The boy couldn't claim that he liked Alistair, but at that moment, even he would have been welcome.

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