The seasons passed, through winter to spring to summer to just about autumn, and of course, Alfred and Arthur met again. They met several times, each interspersed by a month or two, and then a few weeks, and then possibly a week at most, and then simply days. Each and every time, the tense awkwardness that had settled around them at the beginning seemed to fade away little by little, and somewhere at the end of spring Alfred had actually shoved Arthur playfully, and instead of freezing or yelling or running away, Arthur shoved right back. At one point later, Arthur had casually mentioned friendship, and they ended up spending the day running around in the gardens in the pouring rain playing like children. They had even taken the risk of sneaking inside the castle one evening, careful to hide in the shadows at the sound of footsteps, and then spent the night exchanging old stories in Alfred's room as if they were small boys. The gardens around the castle had become their sanctuary, somewhere that they could spend time together and no one else would see. And on Alfred's end, that warmth that bloomed inside of him whenever he was around Arthur grew more and more powerful, and at the same time more and more clear.
But at the same time, Alfred's life was becoming even harder. His nineteenth birthday had come and gone with still no announcements of any bride, and his parents were starting to worry about having to force him into marriage at twenty. Even Matthew, who was usually so supportive of whatever Alfred decided to do, kept glancing at him nervously. He had seen hundreds and hundreds of suitable young women, and yet he had turned them all down. The city streets were buzzing with rumors. Everyone was wondering just what exactly he was waiting for.
Had they asked him straight up, Alfred could easily have answered that. It was the same as it had always been- his One True Love. Nothing more, nothing less. And as time went by, and the slight chill of autumn won out over the warmth of summer, he found himself seeing more clearly just who that person was. There was no mistaking it.
"Hey, Arthur," Alfred called out as he jogged the last few steps down the garden path he'd been following. The Spades roses were beginning to bloom around him, bright splashes of blue against the golds and reds of the autumn leaves. It was a beautiful sight to behold, but Alfred wasn't paying it any attention at the moment. No, all he wanted to see was the man he'd arranged to meet.
"Ah, Alfred, you're here." Arthur rose from where he'd been kneeling beside one of the flowerbeds and smiled. The smile was just a smile. There was no hidden meanings behind it, no secrets, but it still sent that set aflame that flicker of warmth deep inside Alfred's stomach, and he smiled back even wider.
"So what did you want to show me?" he asked, stepping up right beside Arthur and peering down into the flowers. He didn't see anything unusual, but then again, Arthur had shown him some very normal things in the past, things that Alfred would never have thought to pay attention to before that. Somehow, just the way Arthur could speak so enthusiastically about tiny things like insects or flower petals would make anything interesting.
This time wasn't any different. Arthur positively beamed at him, reaching out to grab him by the wrist and lead him deeper into the maze of the gardens. "I've been working hard on this recently," he said over his shoulder, still smiling. "It's still not perfect, I'm afraid, but I'm coming so close, Alfred, and I know I'm almost there. Just a bit more work and everything will settle right into place."
As Arthur continued rambling and dragging Alfred along, never saying exactly what he was talking about, Alfred couldn't help the way his smile softened with affection. Because it was affection that he felt, was it not? The way his heartbeat fluttered in his chest, how his wrist burned with wonderful warmth where Arthur was touching him, how he looked forward to these meetings between them far more than ever he had for anyone else… There was no other word for it, no other explanation. No, actually, there was one, but he wasn't quite sure about that one yet. He didn't want to jump to a conclusion that could destroy what he and Arthur had already, not when all he wanted was to spend more time with the man. He would much rather just keep quiet about it all.
It felt as though them mere seconds to reach Arthur's intended destination, though that might have been because Alfred was basking in the sensation of Arthur's touch. Whatever the case, it came as quite a shock to him when Arthur suddenly stopped and released his wrist. Alfred blinked and looked around. It seemed that Arthur had brought him back to the place where they had first spoken in the gardens, one year earlier. The willow tree still hung gracefully down over the calm waters of the pond, and rosebushes bloomed around it all, but this time, the vague memory of his mother describing the area as a place for forbidden lovers to meet in secret refused to leave his mind. It was just so similar to his and Arthur's circumstances, minus the lovers bit. A faint blush began to creep across Alfred's face at the thought.
"Alfred?" A pale hand waved back and forth in front of his eyes, and he looked down at Arthur's worried face. "Alfred, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
"A ghost? No, I'm fine, sorry. I was just thinking." Alfred forced out a laugh, glancing up at the branches of the willow tree as he tried to will his blush away. As he stared up at it, though, he couldn't help but wonder about their situation, and he found himself speaking before he'd thought the words through. "Do you know what they say about this place, Arthur?"
Arthur frowned at him, shaking his head. "No, I don't. Are you sure you're alright? You still look a bit off."
"I'm fine, don't worry." It should have been easy to pretend to drop the other conversation and pretend it had never begun. Now that Alfred had started speaking, however, he couldn't seem to stop. "When I was younger, my mother told me that this place in the gardens is special. She said that this is where lovers come to see each other when they're forbidden to be together in public." His gaze roamed across Arthur's face, searching, searching. He wanted to know. "I always thought that was kind of romantic. Don't you?"
Arthur's eyes widened, his breath catching slightly in his throat, before he turned his face away. It was all so subtle, but Alfred was looking for it, really looking, and he saw it clear as day. His heart skipped a beat. Did this mean…? Then Arthur was drawing in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and murmuring, "Yes, it's very romantic indeed. Now, do you want to see what I have to show you or not?"
The hopeful fluttering in Alfred's chest died at once. He forced his lips to curve up into a smile. "Right. Show me whatever it is, then." He must have been imagining things, seeing what he wanted to see. That was the obvious answer.
"Right," Arthur repeated, his voice a little too loud after the softness from before. He winced but didn't bother to try again. Instead, he turned away from Alfred, moving towards the nearest rosebush and the brilliant blue flowers blooming there. After a moment, Alfred followed him quietly.
It was the same bush where Arthur had showed his magic for the first time, where everything had been going so well and then collapsed in a charred, twisted mess. Alfred thought that was horribly like what their friendship was doing at the moment. But he didn't say that aloud, just watched as Arthur nervously rubbed his palms against the tops of his thighs and then reached out to cup a rose between his hands.
And then nothing happened. "Arthur?" Alfred asked tentatively after a moment.
"Hush," Arthur replied without looking back at him. "I'm trying to concentrate."
Oh, so that was what this was all about. Alfred glanced warily between Arthur's frowning face and the delicate rose petals. Arthur had said he'd been working on his magic, but he had refused to show Alfred how far he'd gotten for months now, and Alfred thought he was more than justified in being a little worried about the possible outcomes. He looked up at Arthur's face once again, taking in the wonderfully thick brows and determined green eyes and thin lips pressed into a tight line, before turning back to the rose. There was no point in admiring Arthur if it only made himself feel worse about what had just happened between them.
Arthur breathed out slowly, screwing his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them again with an even more determined stare. The flower in his hands began to glow faintly. As Alfred watched, the blue petals began to fold outwards, curling over Arthur's palms, twisting and curving into beautiful spirals. The center rose up, and the stem wound itself between Arthur's fingers, and the leaves grew until they could fan out wide. Alfred found himself looking at a ship, rolling across a choppy sea of green. Then Arthur made a small, tense sound, and it shifted, changed, and became a knight in vibrant blue armor.
"Wow," Alfred whispered lowly. The feeling was warranted. Arthur had obviously been working hard on this, for he was holding it far longer than he had been able to before. The designs were even more complex. But there was still a nagging little voice at the back of Alfred's mind, reminding him of what had happened, of what could still happen.
And as if it had been reading his thoughts, the worst came to pass. Arthur sucked in a deep breath, his fingers twitched slightly, and this time, Alfred saw exactly the moment where his concentration waned. In that split second, the glow around the flower faded. The petals jerked like they'd been shocked, beginning to shrivel and char in Arthur's hands. Thorns threatened to dig into the pale skin of his palms and fingers.
Before Alfred even realized he was moving, he felt his hands curl around Arthur's fingers, intending to shield them from the pain that was sure to come. They were soft, just like he'd learned over the course of their friendship, and just touching them was enough to send a spark of warmth shooting through his body.
Except that it wasn't the same kind of warmth that he'd come to expect. No, this was a real spark, this was something entirely different, and it sent a tremor rolling across Alfred's skin, starting from where his fingers were touching Arthur's hands. But even as he opened his mouth to demand some kind of answer, his gaze fell back on the blackened rose. The words that he was about to say died in his throat.
The rose wasn't dead. Alfred was sure it had been a few seconds earlier, had seen it with his own eyes, but it wasn't. In between Arthur's palms rested a Spades rose in full bloom, larger and more vibrant than any that Alfred had ever seen before. It was so alive, so beautiful. The petals almost seemed to be pulsing with raw energy, shimmering in the autumn light in a way that swirled the colors from normal blue to brilliant violet to passionate, romantic red. Alfred's fingertips tingled with magic where they touched Arthur, and the rose only bloomed further, the leaves curling up to frame the flower in a loving embrace.
"Oh Lady," Arthur whispered beside him. Alfred looked up from the rose and found himself staring at Arthur's flushed, disbelieving face. "No. This wasn't supposed to happen, no, no. Lady, Lady…"
"Arthur." Alfred's voice was low, hoarser than he'd intended. He desperately tried to meet Arthur's gaze. "Arthur, what does this mean? Tell me what this means." He thought he knew- he knew that he knew- but he had to hear it from Arthur's own lips.
"It's…" Arthur met his eyes briefly, those green irises alight with fear and worry and shame. "It's nothing, Alfred, it doesn't mean anything. It's simply some kind of magical accident. It- It could happen to anyone, I'm certain-"
"No. No, Arthur, I know you're lying." Alfred squeezed Arthur's hands lightly, feeling the same bolt of magic as before, and he knew that the rose would be blooming even more beautifully. "I can see what this means. Please, Arthur, just say it. The rose, your magic, how you looked when we were talking… I know that I'm right about this. Please, I need to hear you say it."
Arthur shook his head, clenching his eyes shut so that Alfred couldn't look into them. "I won't. You're wrong, you're wrong. I don't feel that way about you. I can't." But his shoulders were trembling, and that red blush refused to leave his face and ears.
"You can't?" Alfred asked. "Why not?" Arthur only shook his head again, still refusing to meet his eyes. "Arthur, please. Please tell me. I think I'm falling in love with you, Arthur, so please, please don't act like this is nothing. I think I love you, really love you, and-"
"Stop!" Arthur cried out. His eyes shot open, wide and helpless, and he pulled away from Alfred's hold on his hands, dropping the rose back into the bush in the process. It lay there, beautiful and so alive, but neither of them looked down at it. They were too entranced by one another. "Stop, Alfred," Arthur mumbled. "Stop. Even if I did feel that way about you, even if I did love you, it wouldn't work, don't you understand? It would never work between us, never."
Alfred stepped forward, holding out his empty palms, begging for Arthur to touch them again. "You won't even give it a chance? I saw how you looked at me. I can hear it in your voice. How do you know it wouldn't work? You never know until you try."
"It's too much to hope for." Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. "Nothing ever works out the way you hope. That only happens in the old stories, Alfred, where the prince whisks the princess off her feet and carries her off to happily ever after. But there is no such thing as happily ever after, not for real people, not for us."
"There could be," Alfred insisted. "We could make one. You're the one I've been looking for, Arthur. You're the reason why I could never love any of those girls, because it was you I wanted all along, even when I didn't know it. Please, let me show you how good this can be. I can be that prince for you." He took another step towards Arthur, hoping, praying, that the Fey wouldn't flee.
But Arthur backed away, looking at him as if he was afraid that Alfred would pounce, yet his eyes glinted with longing. "Don't, Alfred! So what if I love you? That doesn't change anything. Can you really not see why this won't work? This isn't some old tale. I'm a Fey, Alfred, and you're a Human! And we're both men. I can't give you an heir. Even if we tried to be together, no one would accept it. They would tear us apart. It would never work." He bit his lip and stared down at his hands where they were clenched into the fabric of his tunic. He looked so alone, so afraid, that Alfred wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him into his arms.
"I don't care about those things," Alfred murmured. He didn't step forward this time, but he reached out, pleading. "I don't care if no one accepts it. Arthur, if you love me too, all I want is you."
"Why?" Arthur demanded. "Why do you want me? What reason have I ever given you to want me, of all people? Look at me. I'm stubborn and demanding and I always find something to tease you about, and that doesn't even begin to describe how I was when we first met. How could you possibly love me?" His voice was too loud, resounding off the willow tree and out through the gardens, and Alfred was struck by the horrible idea that they could get caught, but there was so much desperation in Arthur's expression that he couldn't voice it aloud.
"I love all of those things. I mean, look at me, Arthur! I'm exactly the same." Alfred moved forward, slow, as if Arthur was a frightened animal. "How could I not fall in love with you? You're the most amazing person I've ever met."
Arthur shivered. His body was tense and trembling, his eyes wide as they stared at Alfred, but he didn't run this time. "It won't work," he whispered. "Alfred, no matter what we feel for each other, it won't work. Please, try to understand. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to be the one who makes you turn your back on your Kingdom."
The words made sense, and that hurt the most. Alfred swallowed, his throat tight, and reached out to grasp Arthur's hands gently in his own. "I love you," he said simply. "No matter what, that's not going to change. I'll fight for you until the end if I have to."
"Idiot." But Arthur didn't pull his hands away. "You should forget about me, Alfred. I'll leave and never come back, and then you'll find your Queen and marry her, and you'll be the greatest ruler that the Four Kingdoms have ever seen. A foolish Fey librarian should not get in the way of that."
"You're not foolish." And Alfred kissed him. It was awkward and somewhat inexperienced since Alfred had only ever snuck kisses from the serving girls before, but that didn't matter at all because Arthur immediately responded, clutching at Alfred's hands and kissing back with a fierce passion that only made Alfred love him more. The whole world shrunk down to just the two of them, pressed against each other in that secret corner of the gardens, afraid and desperate but together.
It ended all too soon. Arthur pulled away with a gasp, staring up at Alfred with watery, tearful eyes. "We can't do this. I love you, Alfred, I do, but there is too much at stake here. I won't let you give up everything for me."
"That's not your choice to make." Alfred reached up to run his thumbs against the flushed skin of Arthur's cheeks, his heartbeat beating a wild, painful rhythm in his chest. "I told you, I'll fight for this. I'll fight for you. No matter what happens, it will always be you, and if I have to give up the throne for you, well, I'll do it. I would rather spend my life by your side than be forced to marry someone I don't love to be King."
"But what about me?" Arthur whispered. "What about my life? I have a job that I love, Alfred, and I have responsibilities that I can't walk away from." He swallowed heavily.
Alfred drew in a deep breath and listened to it rattle. "I'm not going to force you. I would never do that. If you really don't want to go anywhere with this, I'll… I'll let it go. But I'm still going to love you, Arthur. You can't change that."
"Oh, Alfred…" Arthur cupped the sides of Alfred's face and pulled him down into another brief but passionate kiss. "I do want this. I want it so badly it's frightening. But I'm trying to think of us, to think of what we need, not just what we want. If I made you walk away from the throne, Alfred, you would never forgive me. You know that. And if I left behind my books and my library, I would never be able to forgive you, either." He bit his lip, looking off to the side. "It won't work between us."
"But…" The words wouldn't come. Alfred didn't even know what he wanted to say. All that managed to escape his lips was a helpless, "But I love you."
"I know." And Arthur was pulling away, stepping back, and he raised his hands when Alfred tried to follow. "I know you love me, and please, please understand that I love you, too. But it can't happen. We never should have come this far. So, I'm going to walk away, and I'm not going to come back. Forget about me and move on. Get married, take the throne, and rule like the great King I know you'll be, and forget about the silly librarian you once loved."
"No, Arthur!" Alfred cried desperately, striding forward, only to have Arthur step back again and again. Tears were beginning to build up in his eyes. "No, I won't forget you. Don't leave me here, please don't leave me! I need you."
"Let me go, Alfred. Just forget about me." Arthur was crying now, droplets running down over his cheeks and dripping from his chin. He looked ridiculous as he cried, his face red and blotchy, and Alfred loved him so much it hurt. But before Alfred could catch hold of him, Arthur was gone, fleeing through the gardens with the speed of a Fey, leaving Alfred to stand, frozen, in the place where their friendship had tentatively begun and then broken down around them.
Alfred stared at the spot where Arthur had vanished for a long time, unable to move or speak or even try to stop the tears that kept pouring down over his face. Arthur was gone. He was really gone. He was never going to come back. Alfred's legs trembled beneath him and gave out, and he fell down to his knees in the neatly trimmed grass. One long, heartbroken sob wrenched itself from his throat. He curled in on himself, burying his face in his hands and not even attempting to muffle the sound of his misery. Everything he had ever dreamed about, all of the happy thoughts of his future, were breaking and crumbling. His One True Love, the only person he had ever wanted, had turned his back and walked away.
Without thinking, Alfred reached out to grab the rose that Arthur's magic had touched, breaking it from its stem and cradling it within his palms. It was still beautiful, still perfect, brilliant and alive with its vibrant colors. He brought it to his face, inhaling the sweet smell, and his tears fell harder. "Arthur," he whispered against the soft petals, "oh, Arthur."
He would go back to the castle, of course, and he would return to the life of a Crown Prince of Spades, but there would be something missing. Alfred's heart, raw and broken, would seal itself away, and the only person who could have fixed it would be the one who had promised never to return.
A/N- And chapter four and romance and angst.
Before anyone kills me for doing a timeskippy first paragraph, please don't! I didn't want this whole story to be full of chapters where they meet, they talk, and they leave, they meet, they talk, and they leave, over and over again. It would be boring, first off, and secondly, I would never have the patience to write it all. I just couldn't do that so many times. However, I at least hope that it isn't confusing, and that it's still enjoyable?
Now, we're actually getting somewhere. Six chapters or so to go!