The brothers all had a very chaotic upbringing; there was hardly any semblance of calm or order. It wasn’t present when they ran with their tribes and chieftains as young children, and even now, it wasn’t present currently in their personal relationships with each other. Although, Arthur liked to think they had at least adapted to a system that seemed to work when it came to running the union. And the very recent occurrence of multiple wars seemed to further complicate things between them. Arthur had also been gone so often from his home, whether it was to attend meetings, set up meetings with his supposed new allies in the reordering of the world, or was off procuring his own agenda for the near future. He was very much aware that this likely sprouted a number of doubts and other such thoughts for his brothers. They had very little choice in the matter with where he chose to take the union. They were simply along for the ride at times. Although Arthur listened to their opinions, would hear their words, he alone would make the final decision.
For the moment, a very rare moment, Arthur was at home. He’d been gone seeing each of his allies, and it had left him in an immediately sour mood upon his arrival. Only a small portion of the meetings were tasteless, but the rest had left Arthur in a similar feeling that he knew that he likely left his brothers in when he decided not to join in the war raging in Europe. Trapped.
The clear indication of his mood lasted for a few days, in the way of the gradual disappearance of his alcohol. He’d take an entire bottle into his study at times and lock the heavy oak doors to prevent any interruptions. He’d taken to smoking far more than he typically did in a day. And whenever he made it into his bed, usually somewhat plastered, he smelled like an ashtray.
And yet, he still dressed well, he kept up appearances, and he still was very diligent in his work. Arthur was always perhaps a bit too meticulous with his paperwork, always keeping them in order and well documented. He was a bit pretentious when it came to organization. And while that was a good quality as a running Empire, it was also a painfully good front, a cane to lean on whenever he didn’t particularly feel like sharing anything with pesky brothers who seemed to sense anything off with him from across the Isles.
However, there were other matters that Arthur wanted to attend to. So, he asked for his eldest brother to join him at his home, specifically in the back garden. It was a change of scenery, away from the heavy paperwork, the dark-stained oak prison that surrounded him. And Arthur did have a lovely back garden. It was spacious and well done with various flowers, foliage, stone pathways, and very old trees. He was currently leaning along the railing of the gazebo, styled from the Victorian era, not too terribly long ago. His eyes trailed almost lazily along the foliage. A half-finished cigarette was perched between his lips.
He took slow, soft drags, enjoying the brief reprieve of nicotine warming his blood as he waited. He wore his typical work clothes, though his jacket was draped along the back of a chair, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his necktie had been loosened beneath his vest. He couldn’t even have properly coherent thoughts. All of his musings stilled with the peaceful stillness of being blessedly alone. A rarity.
Did the union share control before everything went to hell? It was something that didn’t seem clear, they might have never been equal but during the beginning of it all he had managed to demand control over a portion of the shambles his nation had become. Recovering from a famine he was hardly a threat for his youngest brother and yet instead of being conquered there was a deal proposed that had Hamish joining at Arthur’s side. Time and time again Arthur was the conqueror, the pirate that took what he desired and yet he seemed to not want to treat his brother in this manner. Honestly Hamish could answer what softened Arthur to him but he wouldn’t turn away the kindness his brother offered in those dark moments; the same man that granted him undeserved mercy now stood protecting the ginger from the onslaught of war. A past of betrayal turned into a relationship where family and lover seemed to mix more than they might admit to others. The relationship seemed rocky to all that viewed it but where Hamish’s concerns were not placed where all believed. Trapped on the ship Arthur captained, all saw frustration as the eldest was taken for a ride yet none seemed to know his anger was not with Arthur. The ship had its captain but a captain was nothing without a crew. Willing to back his brother it made Hamish similar to the Prussian who sat on the arm of his younger brother’s throne. No, the anger was due to the helplessness felt when it came to saving Arthur from another war. Tears brought on by the misery felt as he stood unable to shield his brother from the war they were bond to face. Never would he admit to Arthur that all his would be for not as his own brother would give in to protect the same brother that once use to be the child he tormented.
Weeks often passed without seeing the youngest of the union. Arthur seemed to be busy often playing his part in the changing world but this did not mean Hamish simply sat around allowing work to go uncomplete. During these prolonged trips much of the ginger’s time is spent in factories helping his people prepare for a war he long ago accepted is fated to happen. If he even allows himself to sleep that night a layer of grime usually covers his flesh along with coal or oil coloring his usually pale flesh. Lack of sleep and a few skipped meals were often factors causing the man to look less than well and yet a beard was able to conceal his hollow cheeks as each meal seemed to slim his already angular face.
Alcohol, cigarettes, and spite. It seemed all that was needed to keep the man from collapsing during his bouts of exhaustion. Entire bottles emptied. Shattering on the floor at his feet while a wrench is used to tighten another bolt in the night lit by candles far too often.
Given invitation from Arthur it seemed Hamish couldn’t refuse his brother causing him to clean himself of the muck that built from far too many sleepless nights. Long hair tied loosely but not smoothing allowing it to hold a level of wildness that seemed to remain from the days of tribes. Sweater hanging loose, the weather hardly mattered to Hamish as he used the oversize clothing to conceal his frail body as though he thought Arthur a fool enough to not notice. Perhaps a month ago the fabric would have had a frame to hug but that seemed far too long ago.
A third cigarette burnt out from between thin lips before being able to bring himself to disturb the peace surrounding his brother. Drawing closer he brought a hand up to stroke the cheek of the blonde before removing the necktie and discarding it onto the chair. Within moments his arms wrapped around Arthur’s petite frame tucking the nation under his chin, “Apologies ah kept ye waiting.” As though greeting a lover Hamish leaned down pressing a kiss to the exposed nape of Arthur’s neck. "Ye kept me waiting tae lang yersel'."
