Summary: News of Alfred's death regarding the turmoil in the United States has reached England.
Written for the Whumptober 2022 prompt: Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled
Characters: England, America, Canada
Word Count: 896
Late Autumn of 1862, Suffolk, England
Arthur's hands shouldn't have been trembling.
His nerves should not have gotten the better of him but his frustration at not being able to keep his tools steady caused him to toss his reading glasses down onto the desk.
The hour was incredibly late and he doubted anyone else in the house was awake at whatever ungodly hour his pocket watch mocked him with. The flickering of the gas lamps was starting to irritate him.
He let out an aggravated sigh and pressed the side of his thumb into one throbbing eye.
Matthew had arrived back in England that morning after a nine-day journey across the Atlantic and after an exchange of a few brief words, retired to his bed chambers, likely eager to get into whatever bottle would greet him warmer than his father had.
Arthur had a whole lecture prepared, resentment boiling like it had been left on the stove a moment too long. He had never struck any of his children before but his hand trembled as he marched to his disobedient, loyal son.
"Alfred was dead for three days."