Demon!King!AmericaXReader ~Part 6

“I see you found what I was looking for, boys.”  A voice chuckled behind you and Leon. The other dog creature looked up and the fluffy tail behind him slowly wagged.  

You froze at the voice, feeling a seething heat whirl in your chest.

If it wasn’t enough of the King to torment you in the bathroom twice, now he was stalking you in the garden.  Couldn’t he just let you be?  There had to be others to keep him occupied, like a Princess from some stinking demon infested land or other cattle that could easily be tortured.  But no, he’d honed his sights on you and you alone.  

“What do you want?” You snarled, pulling your shoulder away from the grasp of the half dog creature that still felt the need to hold on tight.

Spinning around on your heels, you tossed your hands on your hips.  The two that accosted you snickered at your attempt to intimidate.  “Don’t you have anything better to do than…”

“Here you go,” Alfred pulled out a brown leather sack and tossed it to the first.  “Have fun out on the town tonight, boys.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”  Im Young opened up the bag and nodded to his cohort.  “Let’s be on our way than.  Kiku and Yao won’t be looking for us, correct?”

“Not at all.” Alfred grinned wickedly.  “You two have gone early to the local art gallery occupied by two of my finest soldiers to watch over you.”

The pair laughed and the pouch of money, at least you assumed it was money, was shoveled into Im Young’s pocket.  Off they walked, rounding the corner of the maze.

“Who are they?” you asked, taking a step backwards.  Still burning holes thru the King, your breath came in little panting gasps from still being frightened.  Wisps of (h/c) hair framed your face; your eyes were blazing pools of anger.
“They’re princes from Soleau.” Alfred sighed, wondering why you would even care.  “They’re visiting with their brothers to talk about a peace treaty.”

His height required you to tilt up your chin to hold his gaze.  With studied poise; you clasped your tense fingers together.  “Then shouldn’t you be entertaining them to get them to sign their names and leave something like me alone.”

That sly grin came again.  His heavy lidded gaze caressed you, roving up and down, lingering here and there until your skin prickled.  “My queen, I’ve got other people to win them over.”

“(f/n)!” Peter yelled, taking the corner quickly.  “Found…what are you doing here?”  Peter scowled at the sandy blond that flicked his tail in annoyance.

“Peter, do you want to go to town without Arthur knowing?”  Alfred coxed and knelt in front of the little prince that stuck his bottom lip out. Of course the prospect had Peter nodded his head quickly to the idea.  “I’ll make you a deal than. If you forget that you saw me with her…” he thumbed back at you…”then next weekend, after the King of Soleau and the Princes are long gone, we’ll go.”

“Can (f/n) go too?”

“Of course she can.  She doesn’t have a choice, since she’s your pet.”  Alfred said, standing from bent knee.  Turning to you, he beamed from ear to ear at the simple fact he had you by the short hairs.

Or perhaps you had him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Wait.”  Alfred pressed himself against the brick wall of the building, eyeing up the hedgerow.  “You can climb it, right?”

Leaning against the wall, you let a hiss free that had been pent up from having been dragged away by Alfred.  After playing, what you assumed was his version of hide-and-seek, from the people out and about in his garden; you were ready for this to be over.

“Probably not.” You said, looking the eight foot green hedge.  “I personally don’t want to end up with cuts and bruises.”

He puffed out his cheeks and scrunched his face in thought.  “I could pick you up…”  He said, outstretching his wings.

Raising an eyebrow, you looked over his massive wingspan. Scoffing at the absurd thought this demon had, you couldn’t believe he would even entertain the thought of flying when there had to be an easier way around.

“Don’t you think you’ll draw attention to yourself, and it would look bad for reputation to be seen carrying a human?”

He dropped to his knees, crawling on his hands to find an opening in the dense shrubs.  Then again, having royalty playing in dirt, didn’t look too good either.

“It used to be around here.”  He muttered from his lowered stance.

“Maybe…”

Walking a little farther down, you knelt in front of the wall of green and pushed open a hole that would be a tight, but manageable fit for you and Alfred.

Standing, he dusted off his knees of his black dress pants.  “How’d you know about the opening?”  He asked, pulling on the branches to let you pass through.

“I don’t know.” You sighed, taking a large step and stumbling forward.  “Lucky guess?”  Holding out your hand, he groped for it to help him thru.

What a lucky guess it had been, on both your parts.
~*~*~~*~*~
“This is Dia-Talamh?”  You questioned, looking down the long dusty country road. A breeze crested the air, rustling the trees that lined the sides.  “It’s not what I had in mind.”

“It’s not all dangerous demons.”  Alfred flatly said, starting ahead of you.  “It’s a lot more exciting in town, but since there’s a good chance that I’ll be spotted, I would like to avoid that.”

“Where does this road led too?”  You jogged up to catch him.  “You know,” you raised your voice, “a better set of shoes would be nice.”

Slipping off your shoes, you tucked the first one under your arm than the next.  Fumbling with them, you decided it would also be a good time to voice your disdain from the dress you were made to wear.  “Not to mention…”


“Merbaile,”   Alfred said, and glanced back at you.  “It was a sea town.  The castle looked…”

“Was?”

Alfred sighed and leaned against a strange knotted tree with bright purple foliage.  “Yeah, when I was born, there was a peace treaty signed.  The King and Queen of Merbaile had a daughter the same time I was born…but most of their army and the family perished.”  He slide down the tree, drawing in the dry brown earth.

“Even their daughter?”  You asked, kneeling next to him.  “What happened?”

“The Final War.”  Alfred said, but grimly chuckled.  “I don’t know why they call it a Final War .  It seems that we have a new fight every other week.”

The Final War?  You raised an eyebrow, that had been what Gilbert had said.  He wouldn’t tell you, and Peter didn’t know what you talked of, but if Alfred was willing to tell you, then you would be more than glad to listen.

“Tell me about the war.”

“I was so young, and I don’t really remember, but for what my brother has told me.  That’s why he limps, you know.”  Alfred said with a childlike innocence.

Limps? He was talking about Arthur?  Arthur and him were brothers?  Then why wasn’t Arthur king?

“He was trying to save their daughter.  She was the target.”  Alfred dusted off his hands, looking grave from the thought.   “If the rebels destroyed the Princess, than the Kingdoms would never be able to unite.”


A familiar twist of melancholy encircled your heart, as if this was an awful memory.  As if each word painted a distant past that became sharp and clear.

“Why isn’t Arthur king and only your advisor?”

“His wings,” Alfred said and closed his eyes. “If you’re a demon and not born with wings, you can’t become king, it’s pretty dumb, if you ask me.  Arthur would make a better king than I ever can.”

That must have been what Gilbert had meant by different classes of demons.  

“Arthur couldn’t save the Princess?”  You whispered, feeling bad for someone else other than yourself, as that is all you had for sympathy for the weeks you’d been here.

“Francis told me something interesting about you, (f/n).”  The blond said, pulling himself off the ground.  “Let me see your scars on your back.”  If his suspicions were right, then this could mean what others had feared.  

“No,” you said, standing up.  “I don’t think so.”

“Come on!”

“I said no!”

Looking more amused than angered by your defiance, he lunged at you, yanking on the collar of your shirt.  “Just let me…”

Alfred was forcefully tossed back into the tree.  He groaned as he slid down, feeling more than just dazed.  A confused expression graced his face as he stared at you.  He winced, drawing himself to his feet, but felt a heat burning in his chest, and caused him to drop to the ground again.  Looking down proved the reason, a very good one, a large burnt hole made up his red dress shirt.

“Not again!”  You said, pulling your hands back.  “Are you okay?”  You dropped to your knees, laying your hand on his chest.

“How the hell did you do that?”

Your brow pleated.  Horror flirted with your features, knowing what could and would happen to you if you killed Alfred.  “I don’t know.”

You couldn’t believe it had happened again.  It had been years since you had done anything like this.  But it was a horrible memory of Déjà vu.  Like on the playground, you had sent an annoying little brat sailing across the yard, only there was no school nurse to tend to Alfred’s wounds.

“You know,” Alfred grimaced, but a coy smile shadowed the pain.  “I was betrothed to the Princess of Merbaile.”

Slowly his hand cupped the side of your face, as you tried to draw away.  He yanked on your wrist, pulling you back to him.  Lifting your chin, you battled a heated blush.

“Alfred!”

“Really, he has the worst timing.”  Alfred said, grumbling as he removed his hand.  “Arthur!  I was wondering when I would see you!”


“Do you think you’re funny?”  Arthur said, stomping up.  “What happened to your shirt?”


“Snagged it on a branch.”
~*~*~~*~*~
Too restless to sleep, you tossed the blanket off yourself and hastened to the door.  If anything you could sneak down to see Antonio and Francis, maybe if you let on that you knew of the Final War, they could fill you in on the rest.

Tiptoeing from your room that connected to Peter’s, you quietly made it to the door.  Meeting the darkness of the hallway, you sighed.  Only the double yellow moons casted a glow threw the large windows.

You had to forget about Alfred and his attempt to kiss you and see your scars.  It probably was nothing more than some type of trick to break you.  Surely he did it all to douse your flame.

In a fit of ire, you surged out into the darkened corridor.  The breeze that took the hallway ruffled the long nightshirt you worn now, the cold pricked the skin of your legs.  Watching your feet, you didn’t see what was coming head on.  And collided with a solid shape.

A growl pierced the gloom.

Startled, you lifted your face and saw Ivan.

“My queen…”