Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Light pierces the darkness as the metal door at the end of the long corridor is pushed open. Alfred blinks and looks up through the steel bars of his cell. After all these weeks, no, months, locked up in a dirty cell like this, the light blinded him and he could barely see.

Shadows moved around behind his eyes, making spots appear here and there. Alfred groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. He could feel the cold steel against the skin of his back and the rough cement floor underneath his legs. The air was dank and smelled of mold and decay, as it always was in dark, deep places such as this.

Alfred soon became aware of the elongated shadow running along the middle of the aisle of prison cells. He pushed himself up into a proper sitting position and twisted around so he was facing the door. Sure enough, a person stood there. His face was shrouded in shadow but the rest of him wasn't and Alfred could clearly see that he wore an officer's uniform.

Not again… Alfred sighed as his heart fell to the pit of his stomach. They've come to interrogate him again. Not once did Alfred spend a day in this cell without being interrogated by one of those men. If he refused to answer any of their questions (which he almost always did), he would be severely tortured, or worse. He had the wounds on his back, his chest and his legs to prove it. But after quite some time in the enemy base camp, he had gotten used to the treatment. So much so in fact, that he would sometimes joke to his interrogators that his day would never be complete without it.

Alfred stretched and in a hoarse voice said, "You better get it over with soon or I'm not going to be answering anything today." The person in the doorway neither spoke nor moved. He stood as tall, straight and as stiff as a statue. Alfred couldn't see it, but he knew that the person, whoever he was, had his eyes locked firmly on him. It made him uncomfortable, especially since he had the feeling that this person was more than he thought he was. "Are you made of ice or something? Because you look like a block of ice just standing there." Alfred made a pathetic try at a joke.

The person's head twitched upwards and said in a voice that chilled Alfred's blood and made his eyes widen, "Long time no see, Alfred."

Alfred's hands shook beside him and his body quivered like a leaf against a strong wind. He knew this voice. It was all too familiar to him. He heard it every time, all the time. It was the voice that he both longed to hear yet feared to as well. The voice that haunted his dreams and even his waking hours. It was the voice that belonged to the person whom he had loved unconditionally, and also the person who had sold him out. The person who was responsible for him being here right now.

"Arthur."

He spoke his name without the former tenderness and love that his voice used to hold for it. That was all gone now. Arthur had changed, and not for the better.

"Still recognize me, I see." Arthur said, a hard, stiff tone in his voice, as if he was struggling not to show any emotion. Slowly, he started walking towards Alfred's cell. Alfred scrambled back and away from the front of his cell. It might have been childish but he couldn't stand being near the man. It brought back too many memories, both good and bad. Too many memories to suppress.

Before long, Arthur stood right in front of the cell. Despite his coming to hate him, even Alfred had to admit that he still looked as handsome as when they had last met. His skin still shone as pale as snow and his eyes were still that same deep, mesmerizing emerald that Alfred used to love. His blonde hair was neat and well-kept and Alfred could still vividly remember the feeling of running his hand through those silky strands, however long past that time had been.

But none of the warmness that Alfred used to see on Arthur's face was present there anymore. None of the joy and tenderness that used to make Arthur's eyes sparkle like a pair of stars was there. All there was was a stony hard coldness, and it broke right through Alfred's soul.

"What do you want?" he muttered, averting his eyes before Arthur could see the tears gathering in their corners. A long silence followed this. Alfred could feel the tense heaviness of the atmosphere pressing down on him and he could hardly bear it. Then there was a kind of jiggling sound, like small pieces of metal clanging against each other. Like a set of keys being noisily pulled out of a pocket. Alfred's heart beat against his chest and he held his breath.

Before long, there was a soft click and a creak. Alfred looked up and there stood the door of his cell, wide open. And there stood Arthur, holding the door open for him. Alfred could hardly dare to believe it. "Well?" Arthur said impatiently. "We better get going. I haven't much time, you know."

Slowly and shakily, Alfred got up and limped towards the open door. Arthur winced when he saw his limp but otherwise kept a straight face. Alfred could not decide whether this was a dream or reality when he finally stepped out of his cell. The air wasn't so dank here like it was in there and the light from the doorway felt welcoming, warm. He turned to Arthur, who quickly shut the cell door and locked it. Despite him having so much to say, so much to tell him, he could only utter one word.

"Why…?"

Arthur kept his back to him and kept the keys away in his pocket. He sighed. "You're ordered to be executed tomorrow at dawn."

"No, really." Alfred said. "Why?"

Arthur's shoulders tensed and he seemed to be frantically thinking of an answer. But then he sighed exasperatedly and said in a louder, slightly annoyed voice, "We'll get to that later, now get going before they catch you, you idiot!" He had sounded so much like his old self then that an amused chuckle escaped Alfred's lips before he could do anything about it, like the way he always laughed whenever Arthur acted like that, back in those days full of summer breezes and each other's touch.

And it was then that the painful reality hit Alfred. Those days would never come back now. He may be free, he may be able to return to that place, but nothing could ever bring back those times. Even if he tried, Alfred knew that he would never be able to relive those moments in his life again, even with another person. Only Arthur had ever made him feel so happy, and only Arthur could do so.

Staring out at the light rushing in through the open doorway, Alfred could already feel the wind on his cheek, the grass underneath his bare feet, hear the beautiful melodic birdsong, see the crystal blue sky stretching out above him and taste the sweet flavor of freedom. After all these long days in the dark and damp, he had longed for nothing more than this and now, here it was, just a few steps away…

But something made him stop and turn around. Something made him say, "What about you? What are you going to do?"

Arthur, back still turned on Alfred, flinched at the question. He paused for a long, agonizing moment before shrugging and saying, "I've only one thing left to do."

"And that is?" Alfred asked. Arthur turned around to look at him and Alfred was surprised at the single glistening tear running down his former lover's cheek. "Face the consequences." Despite the tear and the shakiness of his voice, he still had a hard expression on his face and even Alfred had to admire him for that. He looked away from Alfred, gritting his teeth and balling his fist beside him. "Take the servants' exit, in the kitchen. Nobody ever guards it and it leads directly to the forest behind the base. You're guaranteed a safe escape then. You're only problem would be getting there unnoticed, but I doubt that it will be much of a hindrance to you. Follow the path that runs along the forest and you might arrive at a town. You could go back home from there. I'm sure you can handle it on your own."

Looking back, Alfred knew that he should have done something then. Said 'thank you', or maybe even kissed him. But even he himself didn't know what made him turn his back on Arthur and walk out of the dungeon without another word, not knowing that he would soon regret not doing or saying anything to Arthur before he did so.

The next day, upon arriving at a nearby town, Alfred learned that a high-ranking officer had been killed in the place of a prisoner who had, until short notice, been scheduled to be executed then. Nobody really knew why and who exactly the officer and the prisoner had been, except for one person. But guilt and regret weighed down on his heart and he was determined to take whatever information he knew to the grave.

This was his secret.

His and Arthur's. Theirs only.

Originally posted on my writing blog here (Remove spaces): inkstained-conscience. tumblr. com.

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