Originally written for the minibang, which can be found here:

http: .com/aph_ minibang

Arthur could not remember the last time he had felt so at peace. It was a quiet evening. There were no nearby houses, none of the noises made by people. There was simply the soft lullaby of nature, the gentle sounds of crickets chirping and the wind blowing through the trees.

He liked this new land. It was so big, so relatively empty. He felt no yearning for his own land at the moment. Crowded civilization seemed unnecessary so long as he had the little house and home that he had built on this, his first visit. He had been warned by his men against settling outside the gates of Jamestown, where there was no protection from the natives. But Arthur had needed a place away from the settlement, a place where his new colony could stay and grow without seeming out of place to the new British settlers.

Arthur looked up from his knitting to gaze at the small child who was playing by the hearth. The very sight of him filled Arthur with a strange new domestic sort of happiness. Alfred's little hands clutched hastily sewn dolls that Arthur had made for him earlier that day. He would get the precious child something better on his next visit, but for now this was the best he could offer. The gifts were enough for the boy, who was currently making the toys whisper to each other. He was intent on his little game, and he watched the dolls very seriously as he murmured to himself.

"You should be going to bed soon," Arthur said. The little boy looked up, surprised. He had been so absorbed in his play that he had practically forgotten that his new caretaker was in the room.

"Don wanna go to bed," Alfred told him, pouting. He clutched his cloth dolls close to his body, as though he thought that Arthur meant to take them.

"A growing little lad such as yourself needs his rest," Arthur said, standing up. Alfred frowned as he approached, and when the empire reached out to pick him up, he fell over on the floor and just out of reach.

"Don wanna," he said into the ground. Arthur bent lower and picked the child up, bringing him to rest on his shoulder.

"Come now, you mischievous little imp, lets get you tucked in." Arthur carried the squirming child, who had laughed happily at being called an imp, over to the bed in the corner. He placed Alfred on top of it, before bending down to pull out the tiny trundle bed that was just his size. Alfred was yawning when he looked back up, and Arthur smiled.

"Not sleepy," he protested when he saw the empire looking at him.

"No more protests, Love, into bed." He plucked the child from his own larger bed, before settling him nicely under his tiny blankets. He kissed the child's forehead, gently brushing golden locks from the boy's face as he did, before standing up and returning to his knitting in the corner of the room. He left only one candle lit for himself, and the little boy began to slumber in the darkness.

oOoOo

Arthur awoke suddenly, breathing heavily in fright. It took him a moment to calm down and realize that it was only thunder that had startled him from sleep. The room was pitch black, and Arthur searched around for a candle within arms reach. He found one on his bedside table and fumbled with the flint to try and get a light.

Lightening struck again, bringing sudden clarity to everything around him. In that brief moment of sight he noticed one important thing: Alfred was not in his bed.

Arthur lit his candle and stumbled out of bed. He hurried around the small, one-room, house searching desperately for the tiny child. He was nowhere to be found. Still in his nightclothes, Arthur hurried to the door and flung it open.

"Alfred! Alfred!" He cried desperately. He could see nothing but darkness and rain. He cupped his hand over the flame of his candle, desperate to protect his only source of light. It seemed so suddenly pathetic in the face of the storm.

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to think. The sound of wind and rain filled his ears and made it near impossible to order his thoughts. Yet, hidden behind the sound of the billowing bluster, he suddenly made out a high-pitched scream. His eyes shot open and he ran forward. His candle died in the wind and he was left in almost complete darkness, but he was bent only on following that cry.

It was consistent, long and unending. It would stop occasionally only to be picked up again in a second. When he thought on it later, it seemed obvious that it was not the cry of someone in danger, but in the moment he thought only of Alfred's safety.

Lightening struck again, and suddenly Arthur saw him. Alfred was standing at the top of a small hill screaming into the night. The wind whipped around him, causing his infant's gown to flap about him wildly. His hair was plastered to his forehead by the rain, his little eyes were screwed up tight, and he stood there screaming.

Arthur rushed forward, asking no questions but simply scooping the child up into his arms. He hurried back to the house, trying to find his way by the light from a mere sliver of moon. Another bolt of lightening rent the sky and lit the way to the little house. Arthur hurried towards it, rushing in and shutting the door as soon as he entered.

He placed Alfred on the ground, before rushing about in a desperate desire for a candle and a light. When he found one, he at last turned to the child with a look of frightened incredulity.

The boy stood stock still in the middle of the room with a look of utter terror on his face. He had stopped screaming when Arthur had plopped him down, and it seemed as though he hadn't moved since.

"Alfred, what in God's name were you thinking?" Arthur gasped. He still hadn't quite caught his breath. Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but managed only a squeak. "You could have been struck, you could have been killed, I'll be damned if you don't catch a cold. What were you thinking?"

Alfred burst into tears, wailing at the top of his lungs. Arthur rushed forward, kneeling down to hug the boy where he stood.

"Shhh. It's alright. You're fine. You're fine. I promise, you're safe," he murmured. The child quieted, still crying but less violently so. Arthur smiled at him and pushed wet hair from his forehead. "The two of us look a right mess now, don't we? We'll have to fix that."

He tended to the boy first; taking a blanket from the bed and drying him as best he could. He slipped Alfred out of his soaking gown and wrapped a fresh blanket around him when he was done. He then dried himself, changing into a pair of trousers, before laying out both of their nightclothes to dry.

Alfred was still sniffling in the middle of the floor when he was finished. The storm was dying down at last as Arthur picked him up and carried him to the big bed.

"Can you tell me now, Lad? Can you tell me what you were doing?" Arthur asked soothingly. Alfred nodded seriously.

"I was fighting the storm."

"What?" Arthur asked, bewildered.

"I was scared," the boy told him, his little eyebrows knitting together in concern.

"I understand that. It's perfectly normal for a boy your size to fear such things. But why on earth were you out there screaming?"

"It scared me. So, I wanted it to go away. I wanted to hurt it."

"You can't hurt a storm, you silly thing," Arthur said hugging him.

"I know. So I didn't know what to do."

"So you were screaming at it?"

"It's hard to think when you're scared," the boy whimpered, and he buried his head against Arthur's chest. The empire rubbed the child's back reassuringly, watching him with concern in his eyes.

"When I was very small, and I use to be afraid of thunder, I would always try to hide. I think most people hide when they're frightened of storms," He said this to Alfred, but it was more a matter of thinking out loud. He was trying to figure out precisely what had possessed the child.

"But when ever something scares me, I want to hurt it. I want to kill it. I want it to go away," Alfred told him. Arthur pulled him closer. Something about those words frightened him. They seemed unnatural, spoken in the sweet cherubic voice of his blue-eyed colony.

"You do that with other things that scare you?" he asked, trying to sound calm.

"When animals roar, and I'm scared, I hurt them 'til they leave me alone."

Arthur closed his eyes and tried his best to think. What was it he should say to this frightened child?

"Listen to me closely, Alfred. You mustn't let your terror get the best of you. You must always, always, always think before you act. If you let your fear get the better of you, that is when you will get hurt. If you keep your head, nothing will harm you. Do you understand me?"

Alfred looked at him and nodded sleepily, but the tiredness behind his eyes, betrayed his sincerity. There was no telling if the child would remember his words come morning.