Veteran's day

Friends

Chapter 3

"Why the heck am I fightin' for them darned britsh again?"

"Because you're American?"

"Nah, I'm Irish. Yer American though "

"Yes..."

"So ya admit ya ain't a Brit?"

"What? I never said that."

"Then why the heck am I helpin' ya?"

It was Jonathan O' Reilly that had gotten Alfred into thinking his stance with Britain, much to the empire's dismay.

They had fought in the French and Indian war, that had forged the way for  Jonathan to become Alfred's first friend.

Not that Jonathan ever openly admitted to being friends with Alfred, who he called British want-to-be.  Jonathan was the first soldier, the first person to befriend him under those days of hell.

When he died, Alfred had been crushed under the weight of guilt and sorrow, Arthur had been quick of mocking his pain. Even back then, Jonathan had been snarky, sarcastic, and temperamental, but Alfred loved it.

"What are you fighting for?"

"I dunno, myself I guess."

"Then you will lose."

Those were the golden words that had convinced Alfred to truly fight and rebel against the then-most powerful superpower that was his big brother.

That too took root in Nathan Brooke,  a smart-talking boy from a wealthy Virginia family. He had hated the British to an extent it was almost obsessive.

They weren't official, fast friends that many would think, as Nathan hated Alfred from the start.

Yet along the way they somehow forged a fire friendship as they helped each other while Nathan had claimed to help the young country "get off [his] arse and into [his] feet."

( Nathan had been killed my Authur himself only months before Alfred gained independence, something Nathan had wished for more than anything. )

"You know the only thing worse than a bit a Canadian."

"I am closely related to both."

"I know."

William Snow was the one who taught him how to properly use his fists and one of the very few people to see Alfred in his absolute worse.

It had been William who'd held Alfred as his capital burned, offering comfort to the best of his ability. Even with the human limitation of not really knowing how it felt to feel your capital burn to the ground.

A half Cherokee from Georgia, he knew how to hold a grudge. Mattie had been the one who shot him, his guts and insides laid for the birds to feast, creating a rift between the two brothers that had taken decades to heal.

"Do you think they are enjoying ripping me apart?"

"Of course not, they just want to be free!"

"Isn't that what Britain said when you rebelled against him?"

Zachary Campbell had been quiet and insightful to the point that had made Alfred want to scream.

His soft voice and never-ending logic hadn't been appreciating by many, especially their commanding officers during the Civil War. President Abraham Lincoln had enjoyed it though, something that Alfred didn't understand back then.