Work Text:
Sunlight had always been something he loved, especially but not only when he was the Empire Where The Sun Never Sets. He had a thing for the bright and the sparkling, may it be fortune and jewels to the simple sparkle of the Atlantic beneath the memory of his ships.
It was always morning somewhere.
However, as they say, not all that shines was gold.
As he brought the porcelain cup to his lips, the radio static made him freeze. The calm piano was interrupted by a news report he already knew.
“A pleasant afternoon to everyone, though the breaking news may not be, right Ron?”
“Yes, because just in the third week of the new decade, people, we have here were threats from—“
He was already out of the room before the sun had set. The drapes all over his windows made mere glimpses of the orange sunset outside, and he almost blamed himself for letting his tea cool for 2 hours to the point he hadn’t drank it yet at sunset.
He took a deep breath, supporting himself on the staircase railing. Who was he kidding? The tea’s not the problem at all; not this time.
The thing is, his family were suffering. They’re dying. A simple natural disaster or rallies won’t necessarily kill a country, but for him to witness them all cry in pain at once—
Alfred can hardly focus in over exhaustion, littered with internal conflict and threats of war. Matthew had nuclear scares and involvement in some major world issues. Kyle was crying in pain from his wildlife and vast lands burning. His brother Zach was in high fever because of a volcano.
What’s worse—that wasn’t everything.
He took a deep breath and decided to give up. He held his place in the middle of the stairs, not wanting to go and sleep his worry away, not this time. The world had changed; why can’t he? He wasn’t the Empire he was.
Sometimes, just sometimes, he wanted to open his rooms to see his colonies once again. Maybe he just liked being feared, or the power and fortunes that came from being the World’s Number One, but reliving the glory days is something he had always dreamed of ever since he fell. Sometimes, he wanted to open the doors to the backyard and see Leon trying to light some illegal fireworks, or perhaps Kyle trying to wrestle some gargantuar reptile. Maybe seeing Alfred stuffing his mouth sitting cross legged at the front of the kitchen fridge at 3 am would do, or just having Zach, Gupta, Matthew and the others lying around.
He will help them, as the proper former guardian he was to them, he told himself.
“Thank you, Arthur,” they always say. “Thank you for your help!”
He may have regretted being too greedy and almost having them all, but he will never regret being the reason they were who they were today. Maybe he should call them—yes, that may be it. Just a little reminder that it will always be morning somewhere.