literature

--Even when the Music is Gone

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   --Even when the Music is Gone
   He was staring out the window, his emerald eyes watching nothing in particular. He wore an expression of sorrow and pain. It was obvious by the way his hands shook as they clasped onto his tea cup. He hadn't even touched it yet, being to nervous about what the events of the outdoors held this day. I could tell he was in pain as well, his other hand held the base of his back, as if he had a creak in it or there was a pinch in the disks.
   I kept silent, stiring my bowl of oatmeal that he had prepared for me, aside from me scraping the burnt layer into the waste basket. I felt like there was an awkwardness in the air, and I'm not counting the arguement we had last night, about me bringing up taxes again.
   He never liked me complaining about taxes.
   At last he broke away from the window, taking a moment to glance over to the table to look me over. I was wearing one of the stuffy suits he had gotten me. He cleared his throat, like he was about to speak, I glanced to him with a raised eyebrow but then he looked away, and walked to the sink. He sat his full tea cup in the water bucket, and rinsed it out. A first. He never did that with tea.
   "Are you about done with your breakfast, Alfred?" he asked, his back to me. His voice caught me off guard. It was flat and emotionless. Unlike his usual happy tone that he seemed to always used when he first found me. Now it was monotone and disheartening.
   I sat up and looked down at the bowl, for it was nearly full. I glanced up at him, his back still turned. I started to shovel the scolding hot meal down my throat, nearly choking. He dropped the teacup and looked to me with a bit of worry showing through those fresh cut emeralds he had for eyes.
   With a small wave of my wrist in dismissal, I had the bowl empty. He had it in his hands before I could even place the spoon in it. "Go wash up." he ordered, that tone was back.
   I pushed myself away from the table and got up. Glancing to him, he was back at the water bucket with his sleeves rolled up and clensing the dirtied bowl. I sighed and walked to the bathroom, clearly marked as the water closet.
   The water was cold and almost freezing at contact with my warm skin from the oatmeal.Then I shut off the water and looked into the freshly clensed mirror. I looked much older, with a small spark in my eyes, longing for me to take action against him instead of sit and watch him take advantage of me. My people were dying and it seemed he didn't care. All he cared about was taxes and expanding his empire. He never smiled now.
   I took one last look at myself before swinging open the door and stomping up to him. It was now or never, and I wasn't taking no for an answer. "Arthur, we need to talk."
   He looked up at him, with a raised eyebrow and frown. "You do not address me like that, young man."
   I tensed, oof-that tone. I shook my head and pounded my fist on the counter. "Listen to me. I am old enough, so we should be able to communicate like adults. I am getting sick and tired of you shooting me down or spurning me."
   He flinched. "Excuse me?"
   "Yeah, you heard me. I have decided that I can't take anymore of you and your taxes. My people are dying because of you. And what do you do? Prop your feet up and drink tea, not even caring about your colony. I'm leaving Arthur."
   "Where will you go?"
   "I-I'm becoming independent...my own nation. And I will fight you for my independence. I want my own life to live and not to have you standing over me and hawking me 24/7."
   He was shocked. Mouth agape and all. "You're leaving me? To become your own nation?" he repeated.
   I nodded.
   He closed his mouth and swallowed, I could hear it. "You're thinking highly irrational--"
   "I know what I said." I interupted. "I'm not taking no for an answer. It is either you let me go or I take you to war."
   He fell silent. His eyes hitting the floor. I even saw a tear well up. But he remained silent.
   
   The next time I saw him, he was standing across the battle field from me in his red coat and raised musket.
   His soldiers dead, mine plenty.
My newest USUK fanfiction, based off of the song "Safe & Sound' by Taylor Swift-er. Hope you enjoy! (MORE TO COME, I PROMISE) :iconsexyenglandplz: :iconsexyamerica7plz:
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