Empire England x Reader Love is Pain

"Arthur," You said softly, waiting for those handsome emeralds to look back at you. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You didn't want to, but it had to be done. After a moment's pause, he turned to look at you, a look in his eyes that you didn't recognize. It hurt to see that look in his eyes, that was not the Arthur you knew. That was…a stranger. That's why…that's why…. You exhaled. You could do this…just…don't look too closely.

"What is it _____? I'm busy you know." It felt like a knife was going through your chest. Before…before he'd always made time for you- no matter how busy he was. But he'd changed, there was something different in his heart now, you could feel it. It was killing you to see him this way. Come on….just do it you bloody twit.

"Yes, well…" You weren't quite sure where to begin. He had been in your life for so long – how could you possibly give up your love for him? Any premeditated speech was lost on you now. You didn't know what to do. This was Arthur, the love of your life…that you were leaving. It wasn't a matter that could be taken lightly. You cleared the knot from your throat as Arthur looked up at you impatiently. "Arthur….Arthur I'm leaving."

"Alright. Why do you need to tell me? Oh- if you are going out, would you mind taking Alfred with you he-" you shook your head.

"No Arthur." You licked your lips, gazing into those endless evergreen eyes. "I'm leaving…" The words didn't want to come out. Your mind and heart hadn't accepted it yet, but something else…something else was pushing you forward. "…leaving you." He blinked. The quill in his hand stopped, nearly slipping from his astonished fingers.

"What?" His voice was quiet, and you thought you could hear the barest trace of your Arthur there, but when you looked into his furious eyes you knew it was just a trick. Your Arthur was gone. Your Arthur would've been heartbroken, demanding that you take it back and quit talking nonsense. This Arthur…he looked as if he was about to hit you. Arthur had never laid a harsh finger on you- not ever. You closed your eyes tightly; feeling whatever was left of your heart crumbling to pieces. The tears threatened to spill.

"Please," You whispered. A stray tear fell down your face. "Please don't make me repeat myself." You didn't think you could. You so desperately wanted to stay, and you feared that you wouldn't be able to force those blasphemous words from your mouth a second time. It was true that women weren't really allowed to do what you were doing, but if he wasn't going to let you go willingly, you'd just run. Maybe he had changed, but you hadn't. He knew that restricting you from doing something had never worked, not if you'd set your mind on it.

"Leave me? You want to leave me?!" He sounded as if you were crazy for leaving him. Crazy for not being able to see that he was the one, crazy for not being able to see him like this. You had tried talking to him about it, but his career was obviously all that he cared about now. England was conquering so many other nations – it had changed your Arthur. It had changed the man you had fallen in love with. "What for?!" You shook your head, gulping down the pain trying to spew from your body in terrible sobs. You wished now more than ever that he would comfort you, keep you safe from this new self. You took a shuddering breath, forcing your clenched eyes open. The hot tears slid down your face like a sea of never-ceasing pain.

"Don't you see it Arthur?" You barely choked out the words. He went from angry to furiously confused.

"What are you talking about? This is nonsense!" He threw up his hands in frustration.
"Arthur, do you see yourself?!" You begged him to understand, to see the light. "You're not..." You took a timid step forward, but his forceful gaze made you stop.
"Not what?! Huh? Not what_____?" You sniffed. This was almost too much. Never had you seen Arthur so clueless of himself, so furious. "You're being stupid; I don't see what this is all about." You shook your head, the tears never stopping. "I don't need this right now; I have a meeting with the queen in the morning-"

"Arthur STOP!" You slammed your hands onto his desk, making him freeze. You broke down into full sobs now-how could he brush this off for a stupid meeting with the bloody queen?! "You've changed Arthur." You quivered with your sobbing. "By god! Don't you see it?! Even Alfred notices! Alfred-a child!" He scowled at you.

"This is ridiculous – don't bring Alfred into this nonsense." You groaned in frustration. Oh the pain. It was stabbing at you mercilessly. You'd never wanted this. Not for him. Not for yourself, not for the both of you. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

"Is the queen so important to you that you forget everything you have here? Here in London?!" In me?

"I haven't forgotten! I'm right here! I've been here for month-"

"No!" You screamed, feeling your voice crack against the tears. "No you haven't! You've been a bloody ghost Arthur! Alfred misses you! I-" You stopped yourself. You wouldn't say that. No. You didn't need any temptation to stay. He pursed his lips, leaning closer to you.

"You what?" He spat. You sniffed.

"Arthur…" You shook your head. "You're not the man I fell in love with." And you turned around. At first, your feet refused to move, there was nothing in the world that could've made them either – until you saw the small wheat- haired child peeking 'round the door, staring at the two of you with cerulean pools of innocence.

You walked away from the man…the man you…the man you love. The tears still flowed from your eyes heavily, and you wondered if they would ever stop.

"________?" That sweet voice called your name sadly. You stopped in the doorway, glancing down at the teary-eyed boy. You smiled through the tears down at the boy. "What's wrong ______?!" He rushed up to the skirts of your dress, clutching the fabric as he gaped at you. "Why are you crying? Was Artie being mean?" You laughed hoarsely, kneeling down to the small boy.

"No honey, that's not it." It was. That was what it was. He had taken your heart from the first moment you laid eyes on him, and now you knew that even if you left, it would stay here with him. Forever. That's what he'd promised you. He would love you forever. "Look," You sniffed, trying to talk levelly to the boy. You'd loved Alfred as your own, even though you hadn't birthed the boy. You were sad to be leaving him as well as Arthur. He was just as much a part of you as Arthur. "I'm going on a trip." You smiled, attempting to flatten that blasted cowlick of his.

"What?" He asked, clutching your sleeves. You refused to look at Arthur- which was exactly what Alfred was doing. "You're leaving? Well take us with you!" He said happily. You shook your head. If only life were as simple as that.

"I can't dear." He stopped, that bright smile fading from his features. It nearly killed you to see that. Alfred was always cheerful; you'd never seen him frown in your life. It was heartbreaking to be the first one to cause it.

"No! You can't leave us! Whatever Artie did he didn't mean it! He loves you," He spouted frantically in his childish desperation. "I'll go beat him up for you! Don't worry! I'll fix it." You heard Arthur scoff. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from them. Oh Alfred. You cried harder than before. He was always trying to take everything on his own burden. You hoped desperately that he wouldn't blame himself for this.

"It's alright Alfred." You smiled. "I'll see you again." His lip quivered, and you could see the hurt in his eyes as the water stung his eyes. "Oh, no don't cry" You wiped the tear from his face with your thumb. "Heros don't cry." You said and he wiped off his big eyes with his sleeve. Muttering:

"I'm not crying." Into his sleeve. You kissed his forehead. "I love you Alfred – don't you ever forget that."

"Alfred! Come away from her." Arthur snapped, obviously irritated with the whole scene. He stared at Arthur agape, but Arthur repeated the demand, and he nodded sadly.

"Yessir." He murmured. You gave him a smile as he let go of your bodice.

"Now you fix him up for me when I come back, you hear?" He sniffed, and you knew that he knew you would be gone a long time.

"Alfred!" He flinched, and pecked you on the cheek.

"I love you too _____." He said before scurrying off to Arthur. You stood up, dusting off your skirts. You debated looking back, but you didn't dare. If you looked at him now you might snap and run back into those arms that you once knew so well. You turned away from the pair-no, your life. You turned your back on it. You would not be coming back, ever. Though you wished you would- someday when Arthur reverted back to his old self, back to the Arthur you knew. But that was infeasible. He was never going back – so neither were you.

"So much for forever," you spat before retreating down the staircase.



Seven Years Later
Paris, France.



You were a waitress. It wasn't a glamorous life by any means, but it was money, and money was key. You busied yourself by engrossing yourself in work, never deterring from the small pub on the corner. It might as well have been your home at this point. Your boss worked you hard, to the very brittle bone, but you didn't mind. You liked the distraction. Even after your departure from London, you had never once gotten Arthur from your mind. As his exploits echoed across all of Europe, you soaked it all in, missing him every moment of every second of every single day. No, you had not forgotten him. He was still with you. The chilled, neat side of your bed retained his slender form even though he had never touched it in his life, the cooking still held that faint burnt taste in your mouth even though you knew that you had never burnt a thing in your life, and the shoes still laid perfectly away from the door for one other pair to sit beside them. You knew that there would never be another pair to accompany your forlorn shoes with a hole in the bottom and a ripped seam down the back, but old habits did die hard, and yours just never faded. Oh, yes Arthur had left his marks. But you had learnt to live with that, whether he was here or not.

You would have to move on sometime. That's what everyone told you. But you didn't want to. The life you had now was the best you were going to get, and you knew it. You refused every invitation of courtship that ever knocked at your doorstep. Rain, sleet, or snow, when they came knocking you closed the door on them. No one could replace your Arthur, and if he couldn't release your heart from his grasp, then no one else could take it from him. You were his, forever and ever. You didn't forget that.

It wasn't as if that didn't stop them though. They still tried, but usually the third refusal deterred them. There was one, though, who was ridiculously, hopelessly persistent. After months and months and months of asking, you finally agreed to let him take you to dinner, but you made it perfectly clear that dinner was as far as it would ever go, and that if he bothered you again with such nonsense that you would personally gouge out those pretty blue eyes of his with a spoon. They reminded you of a certain someone, and deep down, you longed to see them again, accompanied by a pair of misty green ones with a fresh kiss on his lips. You hated looking at them, and you certainly wouldn't have a problem gouging them out for him. But, your threat didn't discourage he man, and he eagerly escorted you to dinner. And that is the most that you had ever done in those seven lonely years. You weren't exactly warm and welcoming as you used to be.

"Come now, Mademoiselle, you must try the baguette! C'est magnifique!" He said with that lopsided grin as he broke you off a piece. You sighed, taking the piece from him. You stared out the window, staring at the ever darkening sky. The sunlight was casting out its last threads of yellowy-orange in the far distance, casting a strange glow into the restaurant. "It is good, is it not?" He asked, being perfectly kind. You were irritated anyway, not liking the thought of being courted at all.

"Yes." You said to attempt at politeness. There was just no helping it, you flat out did not want to be there, but he hadn't given you much of a choice had he? You stared out the window, nibbling at the baguette to keep yourself distracted.

"What is wrong, mademoiselle?" He asked, leaning forward. "Is something not to your liking?" You didn't look at him, as you were still staring dazedly out the window. You sighed, there was no helping this, was there?

"Look, Francis," You started, "You're nice, but what are you doing here?" He tilted his head to the side, a bit confused.

"What do you mean?" You looked over to him through heavy lids.

"You know what I mean. You can have any girl you want, I see them practically melt as you walk by." You folded your napkin neatly onto the table, right beside your plate. "So why would you waste your time on one that is clearly not interested?" He shrugged.

"Perhaps because she is the one that is not interested?" He replied, looking directly at you. He dropped the friendly façade you knew he was wearing.  It didn't take a genius to see through this man. You shook your head.

"It is a waste of time. I don't want love." You said, looking back out the window. It was true- you were past that now. It was all behind you. Love was for only Arthur, and he was gone now. There was no going back.

"Money then?" He asked. He was not going to back down. You shook your head.
"I'd have married by now if that's all I wanted." You stated. It wasn't as if you weren't capable of seducing some young man to marry you. You were, but that was just so…unladylike. Furthermore, it didn't sit well with you. Alone was how you learned to live, so alone was how you planned to stay. Francis eyed you curiously, never once becoming distressed.

"Then what do you want, mon amour?" You looked back at him warily. What did you want? You wanted the man sitting in the furthest recesses of your mind, the man that plagued your mind and body like a disease. You wanted Arthur Kirkland, your Arthur. You wanted him bad. He read your silence. "Ah," He smiled. "There is a man." You frowned.

"Was." You corrected. "There was a man."

"Did he die?" He asked, looking at you with some strange form of pity.

"No." Silence.

"Then where is he?" You shrugged.

"Who knows…" You muttered. Francis scoffed.

"He left a pretty fille like you, mademoiselle? Then he is a great fool – you should move past him-" You sent him a glare. You had heard quite enough of that.

"I don't want to move on." You huffed, looking back out onto the sunset. "I am perfectly fine just how I am."

"But-"

"No." You refused to speak after that, keeping your gaze firmly on the people walking past the restaurant. There was a blonde woman keeping her eyes on the man accompanying her side, clinging to his arm like it was a lifeline. There was a rather tan- looking man who seemed to be rather engrossed in his book. There was a young girl sitting atop her father's shoulders, and a dashing young man with wheat-colored hair looking around frantically. You kept your eyes on him, wondering what was troubling him so. You wondered if his situation was much worse than your current one, which seemed to be filled with a never ending silence. He turned in circles in the streets, searching every single shop window. He was breathing rather heavily, and seemed to be searching for someone. A girl perhaps?

He dashed to your side of the street, frantically looking through the glass of each building. From here you could tell the boy looked to be in his early years, maybe twelve or thirteen. He was too young to be eyeing a young lady, wasn't he? He was too young to be running through the streets on his own this late. He fished around in his pocket, before snatching a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket. You eyed him carefully, getting a strange feeling of familiarity for the boy. Did you know him? He looked familiar…but the name or face wasn't coming to mind. He scurried over to the shop next to the restaurant, putting his face up to the glass and cupping his face to block out the blaring light. You scrutinized him, feeling the nagging feeling that you should go out there and comfort him, but you didn't know what in the hell that meant, because you couldn't even recall his name or face.

He turned, and his gaze immediately locked with yours. With a gasp you stood straight up from your chair, nearly knocking the china from the table.

"Mademoiselle, what's wrong?" Francis exclaimed as he caught his wine from spilling over the table. You didn't answer him, and dashed away, heading for the door. How did you not see it? It was so clear. You were such a fool. You pushed out of the doorway, spotting him standing on the sidewalk. He looked frightened, but relieved in the same moment. You scurried over to him, and as fast as you could, you scooped him up in your arms. You were nearly in tears, clutching the small boy to your body.

"Alfred." You sighed shakily, holding him close. He hugged you back, and you could feel that smile on his face.

"_____!" He chirped happily. "I'm so glad I finally found you!" He was panting. You pulled back, running your hand over his head like you used to. That blasted cowlick still remained. His big blue eyes scanned over you frantically. What was wrong with him? You gave him a smile, feeling, for the first time in seven years, a small inkling of joy.
"See?" You said, feeling your voice thicken. "I told you that I would see you again." He gave you a weak smile.

"Yes, but we must go." He said, grabbing your hand.

"What?" You asked, slightly confused.

"Arthur," You stiffened. "Arthur is coming. He's looking for you." He said as he dragged you along behind him. You stopped, halting the young boy. You shook your head. Alfred looked back at you in confusion.

"Alfred, no."

"Hey!" You snapped your gaze back, the Frenchman following you both in irritation. "What do you think you're doing little brat?!" You shot him a glare.

"Francis, quit it." You snapped. Alfred looked at you, and fat tears gathered at the corners of his eyes coupled with a look of betrayal. You nearly crumpled right there in the street.

"You…you're with someone _____...?" You shook your head..

"No- Alfred." But the young boy wrenched his hand from yours. You sighed, exasperated. This was a terrible time.

"Who is this?" Francis demanded. You nearly wanted to hit the man; he had picked a terrible day. You wanted him to just leave you be. Was that so difficult?

"Alfred.  Now if you wouldn't mind, I have some business to attend t-"

"A young boy?! Is he your bastard chi-"

Smack!

Alfred stared agape at the furious Frenchman with a visible slap-mark on his cheek.
"Don't you dare say a cross word against this boy," You hissed, pulling him to your side. Alfred was a bastard child, technically. But he was still your kin, whether related by blood, paper, or just a connection. You would not have this man insult him- not at all. "Get out of here before I go get that spoon!" You spat, turning away from the man. Alfred clutched your skirts, much like he had when he was young. The glasses collected the small amount of tears on his face. That must have been a touching subject for the boy- no doubt he got an ear-full about it from other children. "Get out of here, Francis." You knelt down, plucking Alfred's glasses from his face. You began wiping them clean, as you heard a scoff from Francis. He turned, and marched off. Maybe he would leave you be now.  

"I'm sorry." You murmured, not really sure where this was going to go. You didn't know if you could face Arthur again. Not after what you said, not after all these years. You figured that this whole thing was just Alfred being silly.  You hoped so, anyway.  Alfred shook his head, sniffing a little. "What are you doing here, Alfred?"

"We came for you." He said, that smile working its way back onto his face. "Arthur wanted to visit Paris, and I found out that you lived here, so as soon as the ship landed I came looking for you and Arthur was chasing me, but he got lost, and I think he's not too far so if you'd-" The boy was speaking too rapidly, and you definitely did not like where this was going.

"Alfred." You stopped him. "I-"

"ALFRED F. JONES!" You stiffened, and you swore you could feel the color drain from your face. Alfred however, broke out into a huge smile. He had done his job perfectly. Oh yes…quite perfectly. "What in the name of…"

. . .

"Artie!" He pulled back from you, and jumped at the man before you, looking down at you wide-eyed. Arthur was too shell-shocked to hug the boy back, and his arms were limp as the young boy hugged him tightly. "I knew you'd catch up with me eventually, slow poke!" He poked Arthur's cheek happily. You were frozen, feeling as if time had decided to slow down for a spell. Those green eyes bore down at you intensely, looking just as stunned as you were. He was just as you remembered. Thin and slender with just the right amount of muscle between his bones, he had the same choppy blonde hair that glinted perfectly in the sunset, and the glowing skin of a god. You swallowed heavily. You knew that this would happen if you ever saw him a second time.

"Uh- h-he- _______?" His pitch rose uncomfortably at the end of his stuttering. You could barely mange your own saliva, let alone a confirmation. You stood, feeling you stiff joints protest. Everything flooded back to you then, hit you like a brick wall. The lonely nights the two of you spent together on the sea-side, kissing and touching and holding every which way, the times you two had gone together to dinner and laughed and loved and enjoyed each other, the nights spent at his lovely house, slowly progressing from him letting you cook to him leading you up to the study to him leading you to the bedroom and progressively untying your bodice staring at you lovingly and dotingly like every good love should. You remembered his cool, fleshy lips whispering in your ear, his hot breath on your neck as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your neck, making you audibly shudder, the look in those emeralds that gave off a loving aura that was nearly palpable; but then the yelling, and the arguments, and the tears washed back into your mind again- making you remember why you left.

"Hello Arthur." You managed the small sentence, somehow.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" You shrugged.

"I live here now." He stopped.

"What?" He sounded dumbfounded, as if that were impossible. "But- that isn't possible, we've been here dozens of times…" He murmured, awe striking him still. You wanted to turn and leave right then, leave him and Alfred and go home. Maybe you'd kill yourself on the inside from the guilt, but this…this wasn't you.

"Paris is a big city." You forced out of your mouth. Arthur cleared his throat and patted Arthur's head.

"Run along now, I'll catch up with you in a bit." He nodded, and ran down the road, leaving the two adults alone. You handed the glasses to the brit. He nodded and took them, not knowing what to say. You both stood there for several, painful moments, both staring at the other in near pain, when finally, Arthur spoke. "I've missed you." You pursed your lips, feeling your heart swoon, but also feeling the anger flare up inside you. "Alfred… I see now." He made the connection, making a passive gesture.

"I missed you too," You said softly, but you immediately reprimanded yourself. You would not indulge again. Not twice. He would just tangle you deeper and deeper. He looked up from his feet.

"You wouldn't…wouldn't want to come back with me again…would you?" You gave him a sad smile.

"No…Arthur…I can't." He sighed, running that beautifully slender hand through his hair.
"I thought not." You longed so badly to go back with him. He looked at you with painful regret, but he didn't push you. The pressure in your chest alleviated just a bit. There was a hint of your Arthur in him now. Alfred had done his job.

"Arthur," You said, taking a hesitant step forward.

"Yes?" He whispered, looking down into your eyes. You smiled, standing on your toes.

"I am glad you've come back." He seemed to know what you meant as he smiled. You pressed your lips to his gently in one last, closing, goodbye kiss.

Goodbye Arthur. I will love you forever.