It was an action that he followed through with the utmost secrecy. Before the conflict that had dragged them into outright war with each other, Alfred and himself had a special code between just the two of them. But it had gone unused, collected dust as the war between the United States and the United Kingdom progressed, along when the second world war began. And his mind trailed along that developed code once more and he utilized it to reach out to Alfred. He asked to meet him, to discuss many things since the stalemate between them, and to do it all within the confines of the highest level of privacy. Arthur had chosen a setting in Portugal, one of his personal greatest allies throughout history, a neutral nation, a nation who had historical good stating with the US as well, and a location that was somewhat secluded compared to the rest of continental Europe.
Arthur had dressed for business, but there was also an air of casualness. A tie and dress shirt beneath his waistcoat matched with dark trousers. It was a typical outfit for him, but it was comfortable. Just how he wanted this meeting to be. They were meeting in one of Portugal’s private homes, a seaside manor with a wraparound second floor deck that offered a lovely view of the ocean. It was a secure location and England always had access to Portugal’s private homes due to how frequently he visited and how closely the countries had always been aligned.
He had reserved the entire second floor for their private use and had tea, coffee, and a lunch spread brought up at one of the tables. He knew that Alfred had quite the appetite, and part of the reason he chose a seaside location was for sheer nostalgic reasons. Him and Alfred oftentimes spent time by the sea in the timeworn folds of Alfred’s childhood. Their first home was in Boston after all, and Arthur remembered well how Alfred would sometimes wait close to the docks whenever he arrived from his usually brusque ventures at sea where he spilled quite a bit of blood for his glittering spoils beneath a black sail. And whenever he would be with Alfred, he’d lose the rough and cruel demeanor, replacing it with something much softer and doting. As such, the sea was always close to Arthur's heart for a vast number of reasons.
Arthur had asked for one of his personal attendants to wait at the front gate of the estate and bring Alfred up to the top deck where Arthur was waiting. Although he hid it well, a part of him was incredibly nervous that Alfred wouldn’t show; that he’d decide that England was no longer worth his time or consideration, just as the States shunned with the idea of working with England before the war started. He could only hope that Alfred had had a change of heart since then. The other reason for his nerves was due to what had recently transpired between them. War was always an ugly thing, but a war with someone whom he loved… someone that he still loved deeply despite everything they’d gone through… was never a comfortable thing; outright painful, in fact.
But, for now, Arthur had a bit of scotch at hand, leaning slightly forward with his elbows against the railings, watching the soothing and repetitive waves of the Atlantic against the Portuguese shores. It really was a stunning day, with the way that the sun caused the water to shine like that. But Portugal was always beautiful, always clear and sunny. It was one of the reasons why he enjoyed escaping here whenever the weather in London grew too dreary, even for him. Arthur’s thoughts continued, constant and even, like the waves as they continually drag along the powdery sands of the shores. Thoughts on both the wars, on the consequences for each of them, on his own situation at home, but today, they always drew back to Alfred. Always on Alfred; he always did irritatingly seem like he was at the core of most of Arthur’s musings since he was a child. Some things never change.
Alfred wondered if he'd made a mistake in going to war with England. Not his first war with England..he would never regret that for a second. The more recent one, though? Their squabble over trade deals and ships seemed to pale in comparison to what happened a result of the Axis winning the war. What would have happened had they put their differences aside and instead turned their efforts toward the Axis? Would the tides of the war have gone entirely differently?
"There has to be some reason that he wants to talk, and I doubt it's just to reminisce about old times." In fact, Alfred chuckled at the thought. They did have fond memories of one another, considering Arthur raised Alfred..but they also had more troublesome memories. He could not fathom why Arthur would opt to meet with him in neutral territory just to discuss old memories however, which meant that he was calling for Alfred to meet with him on business. Alfred couldn't help but feel curious..and a little apprehensive. Arthur allied himself with the Axis after all. And while it seemed more like a strategic move to help him in their own war..Alfred had no way of knowing this for sure unless Arthur told him so.
Honestly, Alfred was glad that Arthur chose Portugal. It was neutral, and they both had decent ties with Portugal. It made this truly seem like an extent of an olive branch rather than something that might go sour. Alfred met with an attendant at the gate and was quickly led into the building and up to the deck. He nodded in gratitude toward the attendant before turning his attention to Arthur. "Hey old man, long time no see." There was a slight hesitancy in Alfred's voice, borne from uncertainty on where Arthur stood in terms of current events, but a softness in his eyes that belied the fact that he still cared about the nation that raised him despite all of their other issues.
He couldn't shake the realization that something needed to be done about the current state of affairs..and out of everyone, the American and British Empires were in the best position to go against the Axis. If Arthur saw eye to eye with Alfred on this matter? They might still have a chance of fixing things. If not? Who knew what might happen next. But at least they were meeting to talk. A step that went a long way toward mending the bridge between them
