Guardian Angel-UsUk

"You know, I have been considering telling management that you need your Guardian Angel privileges revoked. What with all the shit you've put my arse through in the past hundred years."  The scruffy headed angel said, leaning over the very injured young American he had pulled off the battlefield into a large, hollowed out tree. Scared baby blue eyes met irritated green and he wheezed.

"Not...now, Ig-gy.  J-just help...me."  The boy gasped, clutching the fresh musket wounds he had just received to his abdomen. He held them so tightly, the blood was running up and in between his fingers as he lie there shaking. The angel's gaze soften and he reached out to stroke the boys hair gently from his face.

"Aye, Alfred. You're a mess. Come on, love, let's get this off of you so I can get you as comfortable as I can."  He said, beginning to remove Alfred's military uniform so that he could get to the wounds.

This wasn't exactly new for Guardian Angel Arthur Kirkland.  His charge of the past hundred years had been Alfred F. Jones, also known as the representative of America.  Since his birth, the day he actually became America, Alfred had been getting into tight spots.  It seemed as though the boy actually thrived off of putting his immortal life on the line. And who was trusted to swoop in a save him every time? Arthur. It was getting tiresome but he did it nonetheless. It was his job after all.

Although, Arthur had to admit a certain fondness for the boy’s recklessness and spirit had developed over the century.  

Currently, Alfred was in the middle of his third big war since Arthur had been assigned to him. First, it had been the Revolution, then came the war between him and his brother in 1812 and now this. A Civil War. Arthur would never admit it out loud but this one was bad.  He was actually very worried about Alfred and his nationhood.   The battle he had just pulled him from was particularly brutal.  The Confederacy was gaining the upper hand.  That’s how Alfred had come to be shot, it was an assassins bullet that did this to him.  The Confederacy was trying to kill America.

Lucky for him, he had a quick thinking, vengeful Guardian Angel on his side.

It was actually the Angels assigned to each representative that gave them their immortality.  The nations were flesh and blood, and could easily be just as gravely wounded as a human.  Normally, Arthur would have prevented Alfred from being shot altogether but he had been too far away.  The idiot had strayed away and by the time Arthur realized what the odd feeling he had had all day was, it was too late.  When Arthur finally caught up to him, Alfred had already been shot and the assassin was advancing to finish the job.  That’s when Arthur had broken one of the rules to being a Guardian Angel.  He had been so enraged, Arthur killed the human who had attacked Alfred.  There would be consequences of course, but the Angel had dealt with those before.  The important thing was that Alfred was ok, relatively, and that Arthur could heal him.  

After, finally, removing Alfred’s intricate uniform, Arthur had him resting on his back.  Quickly, he lit a fire—magical in nature so that it did not burn out in the damp hollow—and let its crackling orange glow fill their hideaway.  The next step was getting Alfred some pain relief.  Honestly,  Arthur wanted to just set straight to healing him but due to the severity of the wounds, he couldn’t.  If he tried, he would cause Alfred so much pain and stress, it would kill him before the wounds did.  Healing was not an easy business.  

Reaching into a small, brown leather satchel at his hip, Arthur pulled out a variety of things.  A medium sized, stone cup and a pestle,  along with bunches of herbs and other plants.  First, he poured some water out of Alfred’s canteen into the cup and then nestled it into the fire.  After that, it didn’t take long for him to arrange a small bundle of herbs for the water.  He wished it would heat up faster though.  The hisses of pain and ragged breaths escaping Alfred’s throat was causing Arthur concern.  

As soon as the water was ready, Arthur seized it from the fire, his skin being impervious to heat to cold, and dropped the plants in.  Using the pestle, he ground them into the water until it became a dark green color and slightly thicker.  It looked disgusting and Arthur was sure the flavor spoke truth to that but Alfred was in desperate need of the concoction.  With one hand, the Angel gently lifted Alfred’s head and tipped the cup against his lips with the other.  Of course, Alfred choked and sputtered, grimacing in disgust, but he managed to drink the whole cup.  

Arthur watched helplessly as Alfred writhed in absolute pain for a few moments after drinking the liquid.  He did what he always did, cooed at him gently and reassured him that everything was going to be alright.  That he was in capable hands and that he wouldn’t be in pain for much longer.  It was hard but Arthur smiled when the boy relaxed and a relieved expression swept across his face.  The pain was gone.  Now, Arthur could heal him.  

Again reaching into his bag, that seemed to have no end to it, Arthur this time pulled out a large bundle of leaves.  He unfurled each one, three in all, and laid them bedside the fire. Then he took a small vile of what looked like regular water out of the satchel and unstopped it.  Sprinkling just a few drops on each leaf, Arthur then ran his index finger down the spine of each one in turn.  While he did, he chanted and they turned a soothing blue color. Arthur smiled at his handy work, when it came to healing spells and magic, Arthur excelled more so than others.  He almost felt bad when thinking about the other representatives Guardians.  He let out a little laugh, good thing the little Canadian boy stayed mostly out of trouble.  His Frog of a Guardian Angel couldn’t heal to save any one’s life.  

Arthur had just begun to put the leafs onto Alfred’s abdomen, so that he could start the healing process when he caught Alfred staring at him.  In a typical Alfred way but that didn’t mean Arthur wasn’t annoyed by it. He roughly slapped the next leaf on him and huffed.  

“Alfred, it’s rude to stare. It’s not like you’ve never seen me do this before.  Shut your eyes and get some damn sleep while I do this.”  Arthur said.  Alfred just blinked, a faraway look in his eye.  Arthur suppressed the urge to laugh, at least the medicine was doing the trick. The American probably didn’t even realize he was staring.  

“Why do you look like him?” Alfred asked quietly, his voice having returned to its full strength with the aid of the pain relief.  Yes, there it was. The question Alfred always inevitably asked.  Arthur pretended to be annoyed.

“If the ‘him’ you are referring to is the representative of England, then you know full bloody well why I look like him.  Seriously, do you honestly believe these eyebrows are my choice? We’ve gone over this a thousand times, Alfred.”  The Angel huffed again, slapping the last leaf onto Alfred’s torso.  He secured it with some rope bindings and sat back, ready to wait until the process was over.  Alfred looked up at him, his eyes worried.

“Tell me again. Please.”  Alfred said. There was something in his voice. A need to be reassured, despite having been told many times the reason. Like he needed justification. Arthur let out a sigh and crossed his arms in front of him.  He supposed he’d humor the boy, he was injured after all.

“When assigned, a Guardian Angel will take on the appearance, demeanor and name sake of the person deepest within the Guardee’s heart. Which is to say, their soul mate.” Arthur rattled off with text book precision. It wasn’t like he tired of the answer, he just didn’t know why Alfred had to ask it so many times.  As always, the boy hummed in response and nodded.  But then came a new question and Arthur was taken aback by it.  

“Right.  So, what does his look like?”  

Arthur shook his head and frowned, “I can’t tell you that, Alfred.  I’m not allowed by the rules of Guardian Angels.”  The American puffed up, trying to raise himself up onto his elbows. He obviously did not like that answer.  

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re also not supposed to kill humans but you broke that rule!” He yelled.  “Tell me what England’s Angel looks like! I-I…” He started coughing violently, clutching his chest. “P-please. I-I have to know…if h-he l-lov—“ He was silenced by Arthur’s gentle hand, taking his own and giving it a squeeze.  The Angel gave him a very kind look and cupped his face with his free hand, easing him back down.  

“Listen, I can’t tell you because you have to find out on your own.  You have to be the one to discover who is deepest in his heart. Sorry, Alfred.”  He said.  Small tears formed in the boys eyes and he tried to blink them away.  

“It has to be me, though. Right? I mean, you’re here.  That means he is my soul mate.  Which means I have to be his. It works like that, right? It has too.  There’s no wa—“ Once again Arthur silenced him with a soft index finger to the lips.  He smiled but shook his head.  
“You can’t reason with matters of the heart.  Just because he is yours does not necessarily mean the same is true for him.  Remember, you can’t help who you fall in love with. Sometimes, as hard as it is, love is one sided.”  Arthur said gently.  Instead of reassuring Alfred, that seemed to only make him sadder.  He stared up at the ceiling of their hollow and let a tear roll down.  

“There’s no way he loves me.  Not after everything I’ve done.  England is never going to forgive me for betraying him.” Alfred said solemnly.  Arthur really wished there was something he could do, he hated seeing his charge like this.  Unfortunately, it seemed to happen every time he was injured this severely.  All he could do was give his hand another squeeze and brush back his hair.  

“Alright now, love.  That’s not going to help you heal.  Come on, I need you to relax. Breath,” Arthur  said.  Alfred took a deep breath and turned his head away.  Well, at least that was something. Not exactly the response he wanted but it was something. “That’s a good lad, even breaths.” Arthur encouraged nonetheless.

They sat there in silence for a while after that. Every now and then a small gasp would leave Alfred as the healing process overtook the pain relief.  But that didn’t happen often.  Arthur’s magic was strong and for that he was grateful.  He would survive to fight another battle.  And to put himself in danger again.  That was just how he was and although it provided a lot of work for Arthur, he honestly wouldn’t have his charge any other way, he thought rubbing Alfred’s chest soothingly.  

After a while, a more relaxed, almost asleep Alfred turned his head to Arthur.  “Thank you for always saving me. I owe ya one.”  He whispered.  Arthur smiled and went to respond but something caught his attention. He perked up and whipped his head back and forth.  Something was coming, something bad. Alfred blinked in question but there was no time to explain.  

In a flash, Arthur snapped his huge white wings out to the side and seized Alfred into his arms.  He wrapped his wings protectively around the boy just in time.  A loud explosion, right outside of their tree, rocked the hollow.  A stray canon from the battle perhaps.  It didn’t matter, all Arthur was worried about was protecting Alfred.  Rocks and some roots fell on top of him but Alfred was safe.  

After the hollow stopped shaking, Arthur relaxed and folded his wings back behind him.  He never let go of Alfred though, keeping the nearly sleeping boy in his arms.  How he could still be nearly asleep was beyond Arthur but he was glad.  He needed the rest to heal.  The Angel looked down to find Alfred smiling at him.  The young boy snuggled closer to the Angel and buried his head into his chest.

“Whoever he is, I hope England’s Angel is a great as you are, Iggy.”  Alfred said quietly.  With that he slumped asleep against Arthur.  The Angel leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Alfred’s forehead and stroked his hair.  

“Don’t worry, his Angel is incredibly stubborn and strong willed.  Just like you are.”  He whispered.