Wrong Reflection

Guilt From the Actions of Another

"I can die happy, he's such a sad wet cat of a man" - My Beta Reader ApeculiarChild2 after reading this chapter for the first time.

Arthur knew he wasn't a good person. He had been an empire for so long, hurt so many people, and had damaged things with his family to the point where the relationships they had now felt impossible.

Arthur knew he was not a great man, but he still tried his best to be better.

But Arthur had always cared for his family. Sure, it was far more complicated with his brothers, but with Alfred and his other colonies, he had always tried to treat them well.

Arthur wouldn't pretend that he had been a good father, especially with how many of his colonies had been adults when they came under his care and with how he neglected Alfred and Matthew far too much in their younger years, but he had tried.

Arthur had tried, and although he had made many bitter mistakes, especially when he burned down Alfred's capital... things between them had become better. Regardless of how often they fought, Arthur knew Alfred loved him the same way Alfred knew Arthur cared for him.

It had been their relationship for a long time.

Then Sam came.

Sam was different than Alfred. That was obvious from their first meeting and grew more obvious as time passed. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; it would have been a stranger to have two Alfreds, but...there was clearly something in his history he hadn't been telling them; his DID made that clear.

But Arthur hadn't ever considered that it was him that did that to Sam. In hindsight, maybe he should have seen it, with how Sam regarded him with suspicion, with how Sam would always have one eye watching Arthur's every move, with how Sam had called his England a 'terrible person' and then barely brought him up again.

Had Sam been more like Alfred when he was younger? Cheerful and boisterous instead of closed off and quiet? Had his other self forced that from Sam?

If so, why?

What was the point of it? Could... could Arthur have done that to Alfred?

"Are you alright, Arthur?" Dylan's calm voice asked from beside Arthur, his hand resting on the small of Arthur's back. Alfred had just left, going to check in on Sam, Sam, who was dying, and didn't think it important enough to tell them.

Had Arthur's counterpart made him think that way?

"I'm okay," Arthur said, hoping that his older brother wouldn't notice anything was wrong.

Then again, you don't know someone for over a thousand years without them getting to know you very well.

"Hey, Francis, Matthew, you mind giving us a minute?" Allistor asked, and Arthur internally groaned as he knew where that was going.

His brothers were going to try to have an emotional conversation with him. Those never went well, least of all because they were all terrible at processing their emotions and talking to each other.

It always ended with screaming and fighting, two things Arthur really didn't need right now.

But Francis and Matthew left, and Arthur was left behind with his brothers, even Seamus, who barely knew most of Arthur's history with the people that surrounded him.

"Are you okay, Arthur?" Dylan asked, worry in his eyes.

"I know he's not me," Arthur began, wanting to ensure that his brothers knew that. Arthur knew that the other version of England, that horrible other version of him, wasn't him.

"But you don't like the thought of a version of you doing anything to hurt a version of Alfred. Or hurting Sam," Ciarán said, worry present even in his voice. Arthur shrunk in on himself a little at that. Ciarán was the more distant of Arthur's brothers, separated by sea and a painful history, but if even he was picking up on the darkness that clouded Arthur's thoughts...

No wonder Allistor and Dylan were worried.

"I don't. And I can't figure out... why a version of me would... would do that," Arthur eventually said, giving in to the weight of concerned, expectant stares.

"Hurt is vague. It doesn't have to mean abuse," Seamus hesitantly offered, curling in on himself slightly as Seamus noticed Arthur's flinch at the word "abuse."

It had to be that, but that was what Arthur feared the most.

Arthur had hurt Alfred, but two wars and a burnt capital seemed small compared to the weight the word seemed to hold when Kumajirou said it, the weight of the word explaining so many strange behaviors they had all noticed from Sam but never commented on.

"How many of you googled what causes DID?" Arthur asked. Ciarán looked away, and Allistor made the same little coughing noise he usually did when he was upset.

None of them said anything, but it was an answer enough.

"That doesn't mean you were ever capable of doing that. It was obvious from the moment you met Alfred that you were wrapped around his finger and would have done anything for him. Just because that other England was a shithead in that way doesn't mean you were," Allistor said.

Arthur sighed, knowing that his brother was right. It didn't stop the mess of terrible feelings within him, how a small part whispered about what-ifs, about how he clearly had the capability to hurt Alfred if the Burning of Washington meant anything.

Arthur had never forgotten Alfred's screams.

Dylan sighed.

"The Burning of Washington doesn't count, Arthur," Dylan chided, sounding uncomfortably like their mother.

"We all do stupid things in war. Your people would have done that whether or not you were involved," Allistor added, throwing his own arm around Arthur's shoulders.

"It's not on you to feel guilt for what someone else did. Besides, now we just have more incentive to get Sam back home, so I can punch his England in the face," Dylan said, voice cheery but getting angrier toward the end of his statement. Arthur couldn't help but let out a small laugh at that.

"Thanks, Dylan," Arthur said. Dylan pulled him a little bit closer, forcing Allistor to let go of Arthur.

"My pleasure," Dylan said. Arthur sighed, relaxing a little into the embrace.

As far as emotional conversation with his brothers went...that one could have been a lot worse.