The next morning...

Alfred and Arthur cuddled for what seemed like a minute when a sudden knock on the door interrupted their bliss. Arthur smirked at the sound of the prince's growl.

"Who is it?" Arthur called out, getting up from his seat on the coach to open the door. He pulled it open to see a guard with pieces of parchment and mail in his hand, passing the load onto him. "Uh... what's this?" Arthur asked just as the guard bowed. The knight smiled kindly, quirking his brows.

"It's mail, from the motherland." And with that he disappeared, walking off before the brit could press him further. Whatever, he could just read it and learn for himself. As the brit walked over to the prince, Alfred noticed the objects in his hands.

"Arthur? What's that?" The American called, not really expressing any notable emotion. Arthur shrugged and relayed the guard's message. "Oh! It must be from mom!" Alfred smiled brightly as the brit sat beside him, handing him the letters. "I'm gonna read them out loud!" he declared, to which the brit rolled his eyes. Of course he was.

"How do you know it's from your mother?" the brit asked curiously, smirking at the prince's frown.

"Um, because I know my mother's handwriting? Duh!" He quickly looked over the papers in his hands. "They're all from her... well, guess I'll start with this one." He opened up the letter, and Arthur couldn't help but notice the smile on the other's face. He must have really missed his mother. "Ahem, I shall begin now." Arthur nodded eagerly.

December 24, 1697

Dear my sweet, sweet boys,

Your father's body already arrived at the castle, we mourned for him and gave him our prayers. Everyone arrived to pay their respects, but for some reason, his own children didn't come.

Now, before you two accuse me of nagging, I'm aware that knights may have their own ceremonies to honor the death of their comrades, but, for formalities sake, why didn't the two of you come? Matthew, are you still upset with your father over Francis? Is that why you didn't come? If that is so, I am extremely disappointed in you, to let something like that hinder your relationship with your father.

Alfred, you however, have no excuse as to why you didn't want to come. He was not only your father, but your mentor, your role model, your King; you owe him at least a little respect. You managed to scorn your father even beyond the grave. I hope you are proud of yourself.

All that aside, I heard of the manner your father was killed, his body was in tatters. To this day, I am in awe over how my once seemingly invincible husband has been reduced to shreds. The British are savages, nothing more than brutes. Do us all a favor and get rid of all of them while you are there, please?

Including this Pendragon, I hear about.

I know you think you owe him your life, but you don't. He did the only honorable thing by saving you, considering what his barbaric kind did this to our family; to our nation. I want him out, he will be nothing but a nuisance, I promise you. I expect a reply back soon.

Alfred, protect Matthew.

Matthew, convince your brother to do the necessary things. He is to be King, soon.

Love, Your dear mother,

Queen Martha V

Arthur nodded numbly as he listened, not sure what to make out of Alfred's mother. She sounded, annoying, but she did sound like she cared. Somewhat. "Uh... Well, one month too late?" Arthur asked, looking at the prince, who was smiling fondly at the parchment. What was so amusing?

"I love that woman, so full of herself. And as for you..." The American turned to face him, placing a soft kiss on the brit's cheek. "You aren't going anywhere. I mean, you are, but as long as I'm with you." Arthur nodded in understanding, glad that the prince wasn't siding with his mother. Who knows what would have happened if the American had gotten this letter earlier. Why hadn't he gotten it earlier?

"Alfred, why are you getting this letter now? She was expecting a quick reply, wasn't she?" The brit took another letter from the pile on the American's lap and read the date aloud. "January 1st, 1698?" Alfred nodded and motioned for him to keep reading, closing his eyes. "But what if I can't pronounce a word?" The American frowned, but after a few moments of mulling it over in his head, he shrugged again.

'If you don't know a word, ask me."

Okay, then.

"Uh... January 1st, 1698.

Dear my sweet boys,

Matthew, thank you for your swift reply. I hadn't heard back from Alfred yet. "Um... Oh, okay uh, then she says..." So you too Matthew have become friendly with this Pendragon character. From the way you describe him, he sounds like an angel. However, do not be fooled. The British are known to be swift and cunning. Is that so? This is obviously just long con he is trying to execute.

Have you heard from your brother? Or is he trying to ignore me for telling him to throw away his fuck toy? Can you imagine, my disappointment in your older brother, Matthew? And if you are the one reading Alfred, shame on you.

No matter how many times I had begged you to try and form any romantic relation with anyone, anyone you wanted, you always told me that you haven't found your type. Are green eyed, blonde haired demons your type?!

"Huh?" Arthur looked up at the alpha with offense, but the prince motioned him to continue.

How dare you disgrace me like this. I have tried my best to keep this crap from flowing around the castle, but it has already become a hot topic. I want you to get rid of that filthy... Arthur's eyes widen impossibly as he continued. Cunt you are calling a lover, or else.

Now that that is settled, let's get down to business. Alfred, your Coronation is on July 4th, and Matthew you are expected to come. I know you aren't at the fortress; that you are frolicking with the French king. Every noble who is available that day, from any country, are invited; our castle has enough room.

That skank omega, Arthur swallowed roughly at her choice of words, is not to set foot in this blessed country. You are to arrive one week before the coronation to get settled, and because you will be king, you will not return to England. "What?" Hopefully that will keep you two apart.

Until my next letter,

Queen Martha V

Arthur looked up slowly from the parchment, the prince still in the same position with his eyes closed. Arthur knew he was awake though, and the brit had a few questions. "What does she mean that you're not coming back to England?" The American flinched, probably fearing the question. "Alfred, why didn't you tell me before I agreed to go with you?" It came out as a whine, and the other grunted as he opened his eyes, looking at the brit slowly.

"This is the first time that I'm reading the letter, too." So?

"But you knew already, huh? You knew you had to stay." Now that Arthur thought about it, it made perfect sense that way. Why would a King leave his people? But, then again, King George was here, wasn't he? He couldn't run both an entire castle and a fortress; someone else had to be in charge of manning this fortress, and patrolling the waters of Britain, digging out brits, subduing rebellions...

"Your father..." Arthur started, watching intently as the American sat up, giving the brit his full attention. "He was visiting, wasn't he, Alfred?" The prince didn't answer at first, making eye contact with the brit. His usual warm blue eyes were icy now, his expression almost threatening. Arthur, for the first time since they've met, felt genuinely afraid. Was he... was he in charge of all of this? The havoc? Was he behind the constant assaults of his life and those of the British people?

"Arthur, stop shaking like that. My father, the late king of the USA, came over to go boar hunting. I told you this the day we met." The day they met, the memory felt so long ago, but in reality, it was only a month and a half ago. A month and a half is a very short blip in time; it's hard to really get to know someone that quickly. Did Arthur know anything about his alpha?

"You're the one in charge here, right? How long?" he held back the fear and hurt from his voice. Has Alfred been running things for years? How many years? The American fleet came for the second time when he was 17. Alfred would have been sixteen at the time, he couldn't have lead a fleet. The Englishman knew nothing of the American Military, and had no idea how one would rise to commander. The prince, well, is a prince! He could have very well been gifted the position because of his status.

"Arthur? Why are you asking now?" His expression softened, and he smiled slightly. This somehow reduced the hostility the other was feeling, making the brit feel more at ease. He didn't look so murderous anymore.

"I-I just, I don't know. Can you just please answer the question?" Arthur knew he sounded desperate, and by the way the other quirked his brow, he must have looked desperate too. Alfred nodded.

"I'm in charge; I have been for the last 3 years. I was given the position after London had fallen. Before that, I was a squire to my father, who took me with him into battle. He taught me everything I know, including how to subdue the British population and how to manage the affairs of the fortress." He looked annoyed as he spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He taught me that to be a better King, though, it's coming much faster than he would have ever imagined."

Arthur listened to him silently, holding on tight to the other's words. Okay, alright, the brit knew that the American was sensitive about his dad, and Arthur swore to never disrespect the dead again, so he forced his thoughts to go to a different direction. The original point of this discussion. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't coming back? You can't just... sweep me off of my feet, and then abandon me!" Arthur was yelling now, was he losing the only, light in his life? Alfred opened his eyes widely, shocked, and a little taken aback.

"Arthur!" The prince jumped up onto his feet, kneeling in front of the brit, who was currently shaking in a silent rage. How could he do this?! Why Would he!? The brit was only brought back to reality when he felt the warm hands of the prince on his, kissing the dainty fingers. "I will never abandon you! I knew that I had to stay in the U.S, but I was going to ask you to stay with me after the coronation was out of the way. I thought, that maybe, after you saw how magical it can be in the U.S, you'd want to stay with me."

Arthur listened to him, but frowned again. He had no reason to stay in England, and he loved Alfred enough to stay with him forever. But the queen, she hates him, and thinks so lowly of him that The brit wouldn't even have a chance against the mob she would stir up. Arthur would have to start over again, and it would take him at least a month to not be the target of suspicion by everyone around him. So for a month, he would be holed up in his room, only talking to Alfred. The King would be gone most of the day, and the queen would make it her mission to get Arthur out of his life.

She would set Alfred up with a beautiful woman, or man, anyone who was not British. It would only be a matter of time before the American gave in to his mother's antics, either expelling Arthur from his life, or keeping him as, what the queen had put it, a fuck toy. Arthur shook his head; he would never be anybody's play thing.

"That's easier said than done, Alfred." The prince looked confused, and so the brit was forced to clarify herself. "I'll go with you, and I'll stay with you, but you must prove to me that you'll forever be mine and only mine. You have to protect me from your mother too, she doesn't seem to like me much. If you fail to do any of this, I won't hesitate to leave you." He allowed the soft kisses on his hands to extend to his cheeks and his lips. "I mean it, Alfred."

The prince nodded wildly. "I promise; I will never let you down."