What Lurks Beyond

Part One

"Alfred, honey, I have the best news for you!" his mother sang out as she swept into the room, dramatically as usual. He looked up from his text, just briefly enough to see what clothes she wore, before looking back at the scribbled letters and astrological diagrams, trying to figure out where exactly they had gotten their numbers and in what manner they applied them. Not that his mother would approve of his hobby, star-gazing. She never approved of anything unless it made them a lot of money. "Alfred dear, are you listening to me?"

"Yes," he answered reflexively, finally shutting the leather-bound book gingerly and setting it aside.

She watched him with almond shaped blue eyes, her rich honey colored hair done up into an intricate bun that was more baffling to Alfred than the numbers in his astronomy text. "I have news!" she repeated, her hands moving to clasp above her chest as she sighed. "The best kind of news, too, oh Alfred I'm so proud and happy for you! I really am!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked finally, feeling nervous and scared. His mother was only happy in the same ways that made him very unhappy.

His mother grinned, forcing her skirts to swish a little in her excitement. "I've set up your marriage today! Do you remember Veronique? The girl who lives in that mansion in the hills? A glorious place that is – oh! I spoke with her father today, handsome man… Ah, and we've arranged for you and Veronique to be married!"

Alfred stared in disbelief, but his mother seemed so pleased with herself and he knew for a fact she wouldn't lie about something as preposterous as that. "Mother!" he cried, standing from his chair, his hands were shaking from raw feeling and nausea at the idea. "Veronique is twelve! Twelve! I'm twenty! That's eight years!"

"Oh, don't worry about that dearest! Of course you won't be married officially until she is fifteen, but until then, she is your fiancée. And my, what a dowry she comes with…"

"What…?" Alfred fell back into his chair, silent and unbelieving. His mother had arranged his marriage for money, even after she promised she would never do such a thing – how did she even pull it off? Everyone in the town knew she was money hungry… And to arrange a wedding to the richest girl for miles… He sighed, suddenly feeling cold and disgusting. He didn't even want to get married – not to a woman, and certainly not to a little girl. "Why… why didn't you have her marry Matthew?"

She huffed. "Please, Alfred, don't drag that one into our conversation. This is about you and how happy I am for you! Oh and there is something I forgot to mention…"

His heart felt as if it were about to stop in his chest, his hands gripping at the wooden table in front of him harshly, as if he were to let go, then the ground below him would swallow him up. "And… what might that be?" he dared to ask.

"I may have let it slip that you were trying for a command post within the guard." She smiled, sickening and sweet. "So perhaps you should try harder from now on during duty! And stop reading those silly books! Leave things like that to your sister Matthew."

"Brother, mother! Matthew is your son," Alfred griped, for what was probably the millionth time over the course of his lifetime.

His mother only shrugged, uncaring. "My apologies, sometimes it is hard to tell the difference."

Alfred stood up, pulling his mother to the doorway of his small, kept home – which turned out to be not far enough away as he had first thought. Forcefully he kissed his mother on each cheek before opening the door and pushing her outside. "I love you, Mother," he nearly shouted to her, "That is great news indeed but I need to get ready. Thank you for the visit." And with that he slammed the door shut.

It wasn't the first time he felt like his entire life had been ruined by one, three minute conversation with his mother, nor did he ever believe it would be the last. Instead, he gathered up his supplies; leathers, sheaths and a few books to keep him occupied during his shift, and headed out for the guard's barracks on the far end of town.

The barracks were drafty and smelled of rotting pine. A few of the other town guards greeted him as they began to leave, their shift ending as his started. It was a boring routine and he strapped on his leathers over a chainmail shirt. Nothing beyond bar fights and the occasional robbery ever happened in the town, especially less so at night when everyone locked their doors and latched their windows in fear of bad omens. In his opinion, it was a dull place to be a guard with little room for advancement.

He buckled on the iron shoulder and shin guards, his military issued sword at hanging low at his side. "Ready for another thrilling night?" another soldier asked him, clapping him on his shoulder guards loudly.

Alfred grimaced. "Yeah, you know it," he grumbled, picking up a set of the barrack keys before beginning to head out. The other guard followed him, whistling obnoxiously to himself as they went. They stationed themselves at the main gate entrance, relieving the current guards with limp, unexcited waves.

"Hey Gilbert," Alfred said after two candles had burned down to the end of their wicks. Gilbert scarcely looked up from his solitary card game. Alfred knew the man to be a rarity, pale as snow with hair to match. The whole reason he had taken the night shift was due to his discomfort in the sun. Not that it bothered Alfred; he would rather have company on the long, empty nights. "How old are you, anyway?"

Gilbert scoffed slightly. "Why? Do you think I'm too old to do my job or something? I'll have to remind you that the captain is fifty-five and I'm sure he'd kick your ass anyway – not mine though, Yao is only Captain because I let him be."

Alfred stumbled around for words for a brief second, caught off guard by the twisted answer that Gilbert snapped off at him. "Uh! N-no…? I mean, what? Uhh… I was just asking out of curiosity!" He huffed, subconsciously biting his tongue from embarrassment over his tied-tongue. "And a lot of the other guards say I'm too young, so it would be fair."

"Right, right, fine whatever. I'm thirty-two. Feel better now?" Gilbert stared down at his placed cards, moving one or two about with a sigh. "Why can't the alehouse be open this late at night? Damn…"

"You can't drink on shift anyway." Alfred stared out the small, stone cut window of the guard's roost within the main gates. "What about Elizaveta? You're older than her, right? Is it a huge age gap?"

With a massive put-upon sigh, Gilbert threw the cards in his hand onto the tabletop. "Okay, I'll bite. What's this about?"

He shifted uncomfortably for a moment, finally deciding to take the chair on the opposite side of the table as Gilbert. "My mother," he started, trying to keep the distaste from his voice as he did so, "arranged my marriage." His hands fell onto his knees, gripping at the leather straps that held his shin guards in place. "It's to Veronique."

Gilbert gave a long and appreciative whistle. "Wow, what, isn't she like ten or something? That little one who runs around with the Peeters' son a lot? How did your scag of a mother pull it off?"

"I don't know," Alfred lied. In fact, he had a pretty vivid idea of how, but that was something he never wanted to think about. Some days he was to the point that he couldn't blame their father for leaving any more. "But there's an eight year gap… I mean… okay I know it's not that huge, but… she's twelve, you know? I don't… want to ruin her life."

"And yours in the process am I right?" Gilbert smiled sharply. "Hey don't freak out or anything, it's just written all over your face. I guess I got off lucky with Eliza. They catch you foolin' around once, and you're off to be married!" He harrumphed, crossing his arms sternly before his face melted into a fond smile. "Can't say I have any regrets, though."

Alfred smiled wanly. "Yeah, I sure hope it all turns out alright. It won't stop that cold feeling in my stomach, but I'll hope anyway."

Gilbert nodded, bending forward to pick up all the cards before perking up suddenly. "Hey isn't her family ri—"

He was interrupted by frantic banging on the wooden doors to their post. "Sirs, sirs are you in there? Please help!"

Alfred was the first one up, his chair tipping back and clattering to the floor in his haste. He grasped the iron door ring and wretched it open, revealing a hysterical man and a teenaged girl. Almost immediately he recognized the man as Veronique's father. "Mr. Girard! Sir, are you alright? What's happened?"

"My Veronique! My pearl and rose!" he sobbed, his tanned face warping into wrinkled despair and tears.

The girl by his arm fretted, her brown eyes were wide and fearful. "The young mistress is missing, sir guard!" she exclaimed. "Stolen right from her bed, she was. Dreadful, dreadful!" The woman bit at her nails, watching Alfred as he stared at the duo in shock, Gilbert peering intensely over his shoulder. "Sir, sir tell them what it was. Master Girard saw it, sirs! He truly did. Tell them what it was!"

The man hiccupped, fighting over his sobbed words until he stumbled forward. Gilbert caught the man by his upper arm, pulling him into the guard house and sitting him on a chair, Alfred fetched a mug of water as the woman, who Alfred realized must have been Veronique's nanny, fanned him.

"Sir," Alfred said as gently, yet assuredly as he could. "I need you to tell me who did this. Tell me so I can get her back."

"No, no, no!" Mr. Girard wailed pitifully, "You cannot save her! My rose, my pearl! She is dead, for the Naga has taken her!"

Time itself seemed to freeze in the cramped guard house, the cold stone in Alfred's stomach leaping upwards into his throat and choking him. "The Naga?" he repeated softly, disbelieving. But the pure sorrow and turmoil on the man's face told Alfred and Gilbert more than they ever needed to know.

It was true. The snake had struck again. And this time, Alfred couldn't sit idly by.

The night was spent attempting to console Veronique's father, reporting to Captain Yao, and throwing the town drunk, Mathias, into a cell for the night after he had been found wandering the streets singing obnoxiously. It had been one of the most confusing and eventful nights of Alfred's life, but when the dewy morning came, bringing the world from black to gray, he had a feeling that it still wasn't over.

News spread fast in a town like theirs. Alfred always wondered how or who, but by the time he was finished pulling off his leathers, his mother was barging into the barracks, permission or not. "Alfred! Alfred Jones, how dare you!" she howled, making Alfred and the other guards within wince.

Alfred's shoulder's sagged as he gathered up his things, throwing apologies to his fellow guards as his mother began to drag him outside. "Mother… Mother stop," he whined as she began to pull him by the ear onto the grassy lot used for swordsmanship training.

She hesitated to let him go, and then settled him with a scalding glare. "Are you not a guard? A protector of the citizens?"

"I… I am…"

"Then how is it that your fiancée is taken by the Naga! Alfred, you fool. Without that marriage there will be no dowry. I don't think you quite understand this, but that is a lot of money. You, young man, are ruining this family with your lazy, unambitious behavior and," she made a frustrated noise, "And those stupid books of yours are deluding you! You are no scholar, boy! And obviously you are no guard, either!"

Alfred's grip on his gear tightened as he listened to his mother. In respect, he knew she was right. He had failed as a guard, and also as a fiancé (even if it had been official for a mere day). The life of a young, cherished girl had been lost on his watch. And even though it was almost impossible to predict when the Naga would strike, he should have taken more precautions, should have… done something to stop the snake man. But what could he do…?

"Hey! I think that's enough," Gilbert shouted suddenly, interrupting his mother's barrage of insults as he cut across the lawn to Alfred's side. "We had a long night, lady. It's time for us to get some rest. C'mon, Al, let's stop by the alehouse."

Alfred blinked. He looked from his mother to Gilbert and shrugged. Drinking sounded like a perfect plan right now. "Alright."

His mother went slack-jawed in her fury; a few hairs strayed from her meticulous hairstyle as she fought for the right words to shout at their retreating backs. Finally she stamped her feet and left and Alfred released a long sigh. "Thank you," he muttered gratefully.

"Sure thing, kid. I hate to see you ripped into like that for no reason. She seriously gets on my nerves anyway. Although we're still going to the alehouse."

He chuckled and coughed, his throat was dry and pained. "Yeah, I've got no problems with that."

The alehouse was owned by hardy, silent man by the name of Berwald, who was coincidentally a cousin, however many times removed, of the town's drunk. He greeted Gilbert and Alfred with a stern nod, filling up two mugs with frothing beer and setting them down on the bar table before them. "On the house," he said, his deep voice was barely discernible underneath his chopped words, but after spending a few long days at the alehouse with Gilbert, Alfred felt familiar enough with the man to understand and appreciate the offer.

"Thanks." He tilted his mug towards Gilbert. "Should we have a toast today?" he asked solemnly.

Gilbert paused, the lip of his mug a mere inch from his mouth. "Ah… Yeah, I don't know. It's been pretty shitty, huh?" He set his mug back down, staring hazy-eyed into the white froth. "How about, just this once, we drink for the sake of drinking?"

Everything in the alehouse was quiet, only two other patrons within to spend their morning drinking. It was a sad sight and Alfred turned back forward. "Yeah, alright. Maybe by the second round we'll think of something."

"Or the third, or the sixth. I want to be carried home after a night like last night. Someone warn my wife for me." Alfred gave a glum chuckle before bringing the mug to his mouth and taking his first drink.

It was well into the afternoon when Gilbert pointed at Alfred and shouted, "You're drunk as a whale!" and laughing into the froth of his newest beer.

"Whales can't get no drunk, Gil. Whales… they… whales swim." Alfred leered at his drinking partner, his cheeks rosy with alcohol and his normally sharp blue eyes hazed. "So shut yer mouth."

The door to the alehouse opened, but was largely ignored by the few patrons within. Alfred took the final swig of his beer, almost choking on the mouthful when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Sir Guard, Alfred?"

Alfred swiveled around in his barstool drunkenly, blinking at the familiar face that stared solemnly down at him. "Ah… oh. Mr. Girard. Have you… come to grieve with us?"

"Grieve…" Veronique's father sighed shakily, a hand pinching at the bridge of his nose. "I have done much mourning this day, but I wish to have a word with you – when you are in the right mind, however."

There was a small hesitation on Alfred's part, before the blond huffed, closing his eyes for a moment and attempting to focus completely on Mr. Girard. "No, look it's fine. What'd ya need to speak about?"

Mr. Girard frowned, slowly taking the stool next to Alfred, allowing his elbows to rest on the bar with his face pillowed into his hands. "I had a talk with your mother about an hour ago. It was about… the consequences… of…"

"I'm sorry," Alfred interrupted suddenly leaning a bit too far forward and reeling himself back. "Sorry that she did that. S'too soon to be doin' that. When you should be mourning… I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault. None of this is. But there is something that your mother brought up, something that I want." Mr. Girard ran a hand through his brown hair. "I want the Naga's head. I want revenge for the death of my beloved daughter. I want justice. And I want you to be the one to bring it." He watched Alfred's brows furrow together in concentration, his lips frowning ever so slightly. "I know that there are many dangers beyond the walls of this town, young sir, but if you do this for me, I will happily give you the dowry you were to receive on your wedding day – and more if you so choose. Just knowing the Naga is dead is worthy enough of a fine fee."

Alfred leaned backwards into Gilbert's shoulder, the acidic taste of bile beginning to form at the back of his throat. He coughed, shaking his head back and forth lightly. "No," he muttered as Gilbert pushed him back up, "I won't do it for the money." Mr. Girard's face went blank, any traces of hope vanishing quickly. "I'll do it for Veronique. I'll do it for her because she wasn't s'posed to die. I'll bring back the Naga's head so that way no one else has to die. Not for money. I don't want no stinkin' money for bein' a hero."

There was a quiet din in the alehouse Alfred's words almost seemed to echo off the wooden walls. Mr. Girard stood, placing his hands on Alfred's shoulders as pinched tears began to fall from his brown eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, Alfred. It does my heart well to know that there are still men like you in this world."

Alfred smiled belatedly and hiccupped. "Ah… it's nothing… I uhm… Can I go to sleep first?"

Gilbert cackled loudly as Mr. Girard nodded enthusiastically, announcing that he would aid Alfred as well as he could. Alfred yawned, grimaced at the taste in his mouth and bid everyone a fair day before stumbling home to fall asleep on his unmade bed.

The quest to kill the Naga could wait until morning.

Unimportant Notes: Hello! Welcome to my Snake!Arthur fic, which has now migrated from my LJ to here. :U It will be composed of four parts.

This fic is the brain-baby between myself and TerreCiel (on fanfic).