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Alfred had never seen anything like this. Not in all his years. He'd seen people die, of course, seen people be murdered. But as he watched the man he loved drop to the ground, his body limp and broken, that was how Alfred felt. He felt himself lunge forwards, trying to catch Edward before he fell, but as his body dropped to the pavement, he missed, and the sharp cobblestones nicked his arms. He barely noticed the blood running from the wounds.The red soaked quickly through his sleeves, but as he rushed to Edward's side, their blood mixed together and he couldn't tell where he ended and Edward began. He remembered the last time they'd been like that. It hadn't been like this, though.
He remembered the warm sun on his face, the sparkling light on the pond blinding him a little. He recalled Edward's face, turned up in a slight smile, seemingly waiting for Alfred to come to him.
And then, the sun was gone. But Alfred was just as warm. Edward's head blocked the sun, but his lips on Alfred's made him feel warm, not just on the outside, but also inside, the same feeling Alfred had when he'd gotten his first dog, a cocker spaniel named Mila. It was the same feeling Alfred had on the balcony as Edward offered him his tinderbox. It was the same feeling he'd had at the ball, when Edward had cocked his eyebrow, and Alfred just knew.
But now, this feeling, it was the total opposite. He was...empty. Cold. Edward's blood stained his hands, and his eyes fluttered open to look at Alfred. "You're here."
"I'm always here. I'm always here." Alfred cupped Edward's face, leaving a red handprint on his cheek. "You're safe. You're fine."
"Don't lie to me, please. I've been shot." Edward's voice trembled, though he tried to look confident. "You'll be fine. You'll comfort Florence. I'm just sorry that no one will be there to comfort you."
"I'll survive."
"That's good, because I'm not sure I will."
"Stop joking, Drummond. This isn't funny."
"I suppose you're right. You just have to know, Alfred, no matter how much Florence means to me, I will always, always love-"
As he spoke, his honey-colored eyes dimmed, and Alfred shook with tears.
"Come along, Paget." Peel tried to grab Alfred and pull him away firmly, but Alfred shook him off.
"Wait." Alfred leaned down. "I know what you were saying. I do. And I...I love you too."
At that moment, Alfred seemed to have a total lapse in judgement. He squeezed Edward's hand and ducked his head to press a long, last kiss to his lips, now slightly colder. "I'm sorry. I'll see you soon."
He stood up and looked around. All the onlookers had their gaze locked on him. Mothers hid their children. Men and women alike held gloved hands over open jaws. In slow motion, Alfred watched the crowd surge forwards and diverge to reveal several soldiers, who forced Alfred to the ground, the same ground that was soaked in his lover's blood.
Alfred was dragged away, dragged past the palace he'd grown attached to, but would probably never see again. He knew what would happen to him now. He would be tried, and no matter what he said, he would be executed. As was the way of the world.
He was thrown inside of a cell at the prison, with a small cot, a thin, scratchy sheet, and a bucket in the corner, the purpose disclosed by its smell. The guard locked the door and snarled between the bars in the window. "You're done, fairy."
As I lay on the bed, I couldn't sleep. How is it possible to sleep when you know you'll never need to sleep again? I laughed at my own morbidity, then once again became solemn. And I waited for daybreak.
In the morning, the sun rose, filling my eyes with a light that I'd last seen yesterday, just before it faded out of the amber hued irises of the most beautiful man who'd ever walked this earth. I smiled for a moment, even as I remembered that I was probably going to die. It all seemed so trivial without him.
"Get up, Fairy." The same guard that had locked me up earlier now came to get me. He shoved me into a small, barred carriage, alone. The horses took off, and I jostled around in the back. The trial passed by in a blur, coming out the same way I always knew it would.
"This man, Alfred Paget, has been found guilty of sodomy and performing indecent acts. The punishment for such crimes is death by hanging, which will take place in two days' time, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Case dismissed." Every muscle in my body seemed to relax. You'd think I'd be more scared, but I honestly can no longer imagine life without my Edward. I'm not really sure how I made the first 20 or so years. But I think it's like my mother once said to me: "Love is more powerful than most people believe. It can change everything you once thought was true, and rearrange every thought in your head." And my head was certainly rearranged.
I was towed back to my cell once again, and spent the next two days pretty much alone. Well, not alone. Not if you count the person who might as well have been there with me. His eyes haunted my thoughts, the color of good tea, of sandy beaches, of leather-bound books. Things that all reminded me of him. The way he used to drink almost ten cups a day, and how he'd be so irritable when he didn't have any with breakfast. How we'd kissed on a beach, the warm sand reflecting the sun. How he always used to squint his eyes when he read. I could hear the sound of pages turning, waves crashing, kettles whistling. Then, an interruption. Gunshots. Screams. Then there was just one. A body dropping, hitting the pavement with a dull thunk.
The days passed, however slowly, and Alfred was driven into the city, serene and solemn, calm, above the roar of his blood in his ears, the anger and the pain that filled him to the brim, his chest so tight he thought he would burst. He began to remember a melody, a simple piano tune that Wilhelmina had tried to teach him once. They'd sat together, her delicate hands on top of his broad ones, pressing his fingers on the right keys. It was an old tune, one where nobody could remember who wrote it or who it was about, only that it was a man who'd lost his lady love, killed by a vengeful lover who then took his own life. He couldn't remember the words, but he hummed the tune as his fingers tapped his knee, what might seem to one a nervous gesture, but to him reminded him of happier times. Wilhelmina probably wouldn't be there. She was never strong-stomached. Everyone else probably would, though. Prince Albert, his brother Ernest, Prime Minister Peel...the Queen. Victoria. He'd come to think of her as a good friend, and she probably knew how he felt about Edward. She did now, at least.
"We're here." That same gruff soldier yanked open the door and pulled Alfred out. As he walked the narrow path to the wooden platform, he kept his eyes on the ground, ignoring the screams and cheers that followed him. His hands were tied tightly behind his back, and he struggled to shift them to a comfortable position. He was led up the stairs, finally raising his head to look around. He did indeed see his friends, Brodie, Skerrett, Francatelli, and all the other servants out amongst the crowd. Seated above them on a platform were Albert and Victoria, her jaw clenched tightly and her eyes straight ahead. Behind them, Peel and Ernest stood, eyes closed, trying to find a moment of calm in the chaos. Wilhelmina stood just behind them, looking directly at Albert. Her arrival wasn't the most surprising, though. Right in front of the platform, directly at Alfred's feet, stood Florence, her rouged cheeks streaked with tears and a black dress extended from her neck to her wrists, looking up at Alfred sorrowfully. "I didn't know," she stated calmly, her eyes latching onto his. "I didn't know." Alfred could do nothing but nod down at her, and she turned to go. The executioner stood behind Alfred, a rope noose in hand, ready to drape it over his head.
A young man, probably another judge, stood in front of him, a sheet of parchment in his hands. "This man behind me, Lord Alfred Paget, has been convicted by the Court of Great Britain of the crimes of sodomy and indecent acts. He has been sentenced to death by hanging. The convicted now has the right to his last words."
Alfred stepped forwards a bit, feeling the rope tighten around his neck. He cleared his throat, and began to address the crowd.
"I am aware that what I have done has been deemed illegal by the court. But now, I can safely die knowing that I have no regrets. I have lived, and I have loved, and I will never love again as much as that." Alfred spoke directly to Wilhelmina then. "The man I love was killed, and if I had been a woman, I would not be here right now. The law is not always just and it is not always lawful in the eyes of God. And in the eyes of God, I will be seen as a man who did what he had to, and loved a love greater than any you could ever know!" He was crying now, and began to shake. "I know that my dignity has been spared, and I will live forever in the minds and hearts of the ones who know I have done no wrong here today. The world will change, and you all will be left to history as the ones that stood in the way." He now, finally, turned his attention to Victoria. "And to my friends, you have done for me what nobody here could do. You have given me the right to live unafraid that you will be the ones to stop love in its tracks, to turn passion into hatred, and that you were, indeed, a family to me. I thank you all, and I know someday you will see the error in the way you have decided today. We will forever serve as a reminder that you are wrong!" He stood up straight, a belligerent scowl on his face, his eyes filled with the fire of a champion.
But the executioner still pulled the lever.
And for the second time that week, the body of a man who loved, who lived, and who died for what he believed in, dropped.