3 days later... Alfred POV

The ship was bustling as everyone packed up there things, excited to dock the boat and get off of the ship. The plan went like this: They were docking at the New York harbor and they all would stay the night at some hotel or lodge. After a day or two, they would separate. Alfred, Chancy, Matthew and Arthur will lead about half of the people on board by land while Davie and Francis lead half of the people on the boat by sea. Davie will get to the capitol before Alfred and prepare the accommodations for the palace's unexpected guests. Alfred will stroll in with Matthew, Arthur, and Chancy roughly a week after Davie and Francis arrives.

From there everything, Alfred guessed, was up to fate. Whether introductions went smoothly, was up to god and Alfred had faith that Jesus wouldn't damn his relationship with his mate. Speaking of his mate, where was he? Alfred hadn't seen him since the morning. Hopefully he's not crying or something, the prince wouldn't know how to cheer him up. He walked past some soldiers and walked into his chamber, which was empty. Well, alright, maybe he's with Chancy. He walked down the stairs deeper into the ship and knocked on Davie's door.

"Who is it?" Davie called, and Alfred answered. "Oh, come in then." Alfred walked in and scanned the room for his mate. He payed little attention to Chancy singing to the baby as he packed for the journey, probably still a little upset that he couldn't stay with Davie and his child. However, he was second in command of the French soldiers meaning he knew how to communicate with them properly and lead them effectively, Alfred unsure if he could do any of that. The prince didn't want to separate them, he was quite indifferent to their relationship, but he needed Chancy for practical reasons. If Matthew knew how to lead the men, Alfred would have gladly just taken him, but his brother can't, so he took someone who could.

"Have you seen Arthur?" He deadpanned as he found the brit to be nowhere in sight. Davie shrugged, repeating the question in French, which surprised the prince at how fast his friend was learning the language. Chancy paused for a second, thinking, and then responding in gibberish, the knight somehow understanding and translating it to Alfred.

"He left about 30 minutes ago to go back to his room. Why didn't you check there first?" He teased, and Alfred stuck his tongue out.

"I did go there first, it was empty." Davie frowned thinking.

"Maybe he's avoiding you. Or maybe your mate just jumped off of the boat to avoid meeting your mother." Davie joked as he continued to fold his clothes. Alfred scowled at him.

"Shut up, before I throw yours overboard." Davie feigned offense to the comment before laughing.

"Maybe you didn't look hard enough. Go back and check." Alfred shook his head.

"He wasn't there, Davie, he lied to you." Alfred scratched his head. Why did he lie to them? Where the hell is he. He walked out of the room humming to himself as he tried to think of anyplace on the steamship he would be hiding. The storage hold? Nah, he hated how damp it was. The deck? Alfred was just there he would have seen him. The engine room and the boiler room was off limits to the brit, Alfred had told him it was too dangerous. Where could he be?

Maybe he did jump overboard...

Alfred snarled before looking around for anyone. He saw a few soldiers talking to each other, but they paid him no mind, so the coast was practically clear. "You again. Didn't I tell you not to show your face around here anymore? If i could I would kill you." He muttered, making his way to his private chamber.

Ahh come on! You told me to fix you up and I was, not my fault I needed concentration and your mate wanted attention. That's your job, not mine...

Alfred growled, walking faster to his room, ignoring the soldiers who waved at him. "Shut your fucking mouth. My ears are still pointed you fucking piece of..."

You didn't mind them being there when you bedded your mate. He interrupted. Don't act like the ears still being here is such a bad thing now that the fun's over...

Alfred huffed, pulling open his door and closing it softly. He had a point but Alfred wasn't gonna let the way he treated Arthur slide. "I don't care if you saw me bed him, you also saw the emotional pain you were putting him through and if you think for a second that you have the right to just start talking to me again, you have another thing coming." the prince growled, and there was no response. The American hummed, satisfied, only to have his soul jump out of his chest as he heard a voice clear from behind him. Alfred turned slowly to find Arthur naked and wet near the bed, patting himself dry. Huh, he must have been taking a bath when i walked in the first time.

"Were you talking to Allan?" The brit rubbed the towel through his hair, eyeing the prince with worried eyes.

He knows about me?

"Yes" The prince answered, to both of them really. The Englishman pursed his lips.

"Can he hear me?" He asked, and Alfred nodded. "Oh, okay. I guess I'll speak to him and you tell me what he says." Arthur said, walking his packed bag and pulling out a clean gray blouse and dark brown trousers. Alfred heard his conscious scoff.

What the hell is he going on about?

"What do you mean speak to him?" Alfred asked. Arthur tugged the shirt over his head.

"I'm going to ask a series of questions, and he's going to respond. Unless, of course, he doesn't want to." He answered, now pulling on some underwear. He quickly added, "Can he see me?"tugging the hem of his shirt down past his crotch as a blush swept across his face. Alfred shrugged and Allan snickered.

Yes, and I enjoyed the show...

Alfred rolled his eyes. "No" he lied. He figured there was no point in telling him because it would only cause unnecessary panic in his mate. Arthur sighed relieved, pulling up his pants. "What do you wanna ask first?" Arthur bit his lip.

"How old are you?" He asked.

Uhhh... why does that matter?

"He asked why does that matter." Alfred responded and Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, I just want to know, can he please answer the question?"

I don't know... how old are you?

"19" Alfred said out loud, and Arthur nodded, believing it was his answer.

"What's your earliest memory?" He asked, and Alfred felt the world spin as Allan hummed loudly in his head, the action vibrating the prince's skull.

I... well that's a tough one. Perhaps the cries you made when you were born, yeah. They were shrill and loud. I remember the blood we were covered in, the red curtains, the red sheets, and you mother begging to see us...

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows as he summed it up. "He remembers my birth." Arthur nodded.

"What's the last thing you remember before you were locked away?'"

Falling...

The prince narrowed his eyes. "Falling." Arthur asked for analysis.

Falling off of something, out of something... I don't know. But I do remember the rush of wind against our face and landing head first from high up...

Alfred nodded, it making sense now. "He remembers me falling from high up and landing head first." The brit furrowed his eyebrows.

"Do you remember that drop?" He asked, and Alfred shook his head. "And is Allan sure that was the last thing he remembered?"

Of course I heard screaming afterwards, and yelling, and our parents arguing with one another. Martha's voice was the last thing I heard.

Alfred shook his head. "Martha's voice is the last thing he heard." Arthur scratched his head.

"Do you know where you were when you fell? Are there any landmarks you can think of that were there?"

No...

"NO" Alfred said, and Arthur, once again pursed his lips.

"Ok, last question. Do you know how old you were when it happened?"

Around 9 or 10...

"Around nine or ten." Alfred answered.

"Are you sure that was the last memory?"

Yes.

"Yes" Alfred confirmed.

"Alright, thank you." The englishman said with a bow, pulling on some socks. Alfred felt Allan's presence fade as he approached Arthur, and by the time he reached his side the entity was gone. "Alfred, is he gone?" the brit asked quietly. The prince nodded. "I have a few questions for you now, if that's alright?"

"Shoot" Alfred said with a shrug, but in reality his heart was beating fast and his mind was racing. Was his witch radar going off of the charts?!

"You said you couldn't remember anything before 11 years old, right? LIke anything at all?"

"I can't remember anything at all."

"Did they tell you about how long you were unconscious when you woke up in the infirmary with Davie? I know it was a long time ago, but try to remember." He urged, lacing up his thick black leather boots.

"I was unconscious for no more than 2 weeks, and I woke up three months before my 12th birthday." Alfred recited. That information for the bulk of Alfred's teen years had been put on repeat, as if it would summon some answers. Arthur nodded.

"Then why was his last memory of something that happened at least almost 2 years before your first memory?" Alfred shrugged, biting his lip. The timeline didn't add up. "Are you sure you can't remember anything?"

"I said I can't already." The prince sighed in annoyance. "This is bad, right?"

"I wouldn't say that, but of course we'll need to look into this once we get to the palace." Arthur stood up, offering his hand to the prince who took it. They stood staring at each other for a few moments before the prince caved in, pulling his mate closer and burying his nose in his hair, craving comfort. "Alfred, it's gonna be alright." He whispered, and Alfred but his lip, unbelieving of the brit's words. It's not gonna be alright, it'll just be confusing and things will only get worse. He's growing ears and he's hearing voices, can't remember his childhood and is afraid of his mother; this isn't going to get better, things are just getting worse and he doesn't know why. "Alfred... please don't..."

Alfred felt his knees buckle and he fell to the ground with a soft thud, he doubled over and rolled to his side. His heart pounded as his chest constricted, throat becoming tight. Arthur sat down beside him, caressing his hands over the other's cheek. Alfred stared up at him in mild confusion, the brit using a thumb to wipe near his eye. The prince felt streaks of warm liquid spilling from his eyes. He was crying, he realized, and he moved to wipe his tears. "I'm sorry..." He muttered, sitting up. "That was awfully dramatic." Arthur shook his head.

"It's fine really, I just... there is no need to panic. I'm sorry for scaring you, your situation isn't as bad as you think." Arthur said, grabbing at the other's hand. "I think you just need some time to let loose in New York, that should set you right. Please cheer up!" The englishman said with a reassuring smile. "Besides, I need you to give me a tour of the city, you can't do that while wallowing in self pity."

"I wasn't wallowing," Alfred said with a smirk. "I was lightly dabbing myself with it, like a perfume pad." He smiled as Arthur chuckled. "I love you lots." He added out of nowhere, even the brit seemed surprised. The englishman, like always, recovered quickly and blew kisses at the prince.

"I love you too."

30 minutes later...

"We are docked and ready to go on your command." John said, tailing the prince who walked hurriedly around the deck.

"Tell them to get off of the boat then, and distribute some money so they can buy something." He said, waving the other off lazily. Where the hell was Davie and Francis, they said they would be ready by now. Arthur Matthew and Chancy (with Geoffrey) are going on a little shopping spree, while their respective mates go bar hopping. Where the hell did they go?!Did they ditch him?! He turned angrily and looked out at the city before him. They arrived a few minutes ago, yet word spread so fast that half of the city crowded around the harbor, Alfred sighing at the loud shrieks of excited women and loud banter of Irish workers.

The city was beautiful, he must admit. The buildings were short and the streets were busy, the shabbily paved streets branching off into other avenues with their own shabby streets. Women were shopping at markets, bread in their bags and children following behind them. Men selling things or picking up crates on the sidewalk and carrying them into caravans, petting their horses as they walked by. Horses... they need to unload the horses. Fuck!

The prince looked around for someone responsible, his eyes meeting Arthur's as the blonde walked by towards the exit with his friends. The brit paused, before asking him what he wanted. Alfred mulled it over in his head, can his mate actually handle releasing the horses? He definitely can't do it himself. He shook his head. "Go on, have fun." He smiled, waving the others off. The brit shrugged returning to his friends after blowing the other a kiss, boarding off the ship. "Oh, wait!"Alfred called, Arthur turning to look at him expectantly. "Do you guys have money?" You can't go shopping without money.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, we have money. You could always give us more though." He teased, Matthew scoffing.

"Alfred is one of the cheapest people I know." Alfred gasped, little offended.

"I am not cheap, I just don't see the need of buying things outrageously overpriced." He sneered. "Your an awful shopper, Mattie. You buy something for twice as much as it's worth and you leave a tip! Who does that? Why would you do that?" Alfred shot back, and Matthew shrugged.

"I like giving back." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, just don't trade away the deed to my castle." He said as he turned back, walking away from the trio. Well, since there's no one else here.. Ugh! He has to release the horses himself. "Fuck, just what I needed!" He mumbled to himself. As he got deeper into the ship, he could hear the horses neighing, restless perhaps. That's bad, especially since he's alone,he couldn't handle a stampede. "Damn, maybe I can get one of the dockworkers to help me." He settled on that, turning back to to return to the deck.

"Alfred!? Alfred?! WHere did he go, I thought he told us he'd wait." Francis shifted, a small pout on his face. Davie shrugged, patting his shoulder reassuringly. Alfred rolled his eyes as he rounded the corner, approaching the two other men.

"Before we go drinking, we have to release the horses."He deadpanned, the Frenchman grinning at him excitedly, and then sourly once he realized what the other had said.

"But... there's like 40 of them." He mumbled, and Alfred shrugged. We can't just keep them there.

"I promise we'll drink to your hearts content." He reasoned, and the king frowned, still nodding his head. "Alright, follow me.'

Arthur's Pov...

"When do I get to meet him?!" Matthew translated for the shorter frenchman and Arthur sighed, knowing he was going to regret telling them. The mention of his "father" just slipped out of the brit's mouth foolishly as he was looking at the hats, thinking aloud whether or not he should buy it as a gift. You know, first impressions. However, Matthew overheard and wouldn't drop it, suddenly asking the brit a gamut of questions ranging from how old is he to what he looked like. Arthur would have told him if he knew, but since he didn't... he tried in vain to dodge the questions.

"He set sail a few days after we did, but he's going straight to the capitol, so I suspect we'll meet him there." Arthur was fairly certain about that at least. Chancy nodded his head as Matthew translated for him, asking another question.

"Is he kind?" Matthew translated. Arthur bit his lip. He had only received a letter from the man, but the brit felt as if he could guess his personality quite accurately. He left no rooms for buts in his letter, a dominant fellow, yet not to the point where the brit was uncomfortable. He was also considerate, Arthur realized, his brief mention of his country house a few hours from the capitol served as a hint that if things got bad, he would offer asylum. Arthur smiled a little at the thought, though interrupted from his thoughts when he heard Matthew squeal. "Aww, you were just smiling! Were you thinking about your dad?!" He then continued to repeat the question in French. Arthur scowled.

"Anyway, my father... though he's a little on the strict side, he very compassionate and he wouldn't see a person in need and leave them behind." He said as he walked ahead of them, continuing to look inside shops through the glass windows. Chancy quickly caught up with him, geoffrey mumbling and squealing as he was bounced in the process. The brit sighed, Geoffrey was just so cute. Chancy must have read the brit's face because the next thing the englishman knew, Chancy was passing the infant over to Arthur. The brit took him, of course, and cradled his head gently as he continued to browse the marketplace.

First impressions, the place looked magical. The streets were crowded, and looked as if any of them were to be separated, it would be almost impossible to find them. The sidewalk they walked on was severely cracked, and many shops had broken windows. The street lamps were standing tall and unlit as Mothers walked with their children, and husbands with their wives, chatting about the day. There were numerous amounts of horse drawn carriages and wagons being pulled up and down the street, people dressed in either very refined attire, or dressed in very shabby ones. Arthur looked down a his own outfit. He was wearing a freshly washed white blouse that he had left untucked over his dark brown trousers. Geoffrey had on a warm grey onesie and a thick blanket to keep out the frigid march air. The tip of his nose was turning red and his eyes were beginning to water. Arthur sighed, the almost 3 month old is gonna start to cry.

"Chancy, did you feed him before we left?" Arthur asked, passing the sad baby back to Chancy. The Frenchman took his child back in confusion before Matthew translated. Chancy nodded, speaking to his son in french, practically scolding him. Arthur would like to say that it was surprising, but it wouldn't be the first time he had caught Chancy talking to his baby like he understood a word he was saying. He also scolded Davie at times, and though Arthur had personally never seen them argue, he still remembers the day Chancy had slapped Davie. Arthur hadn't asked what the argument was about, but now he was curious again. "Also, do you remember the day you hurt your hip?" Arthur asked, and Matthew translated.

Chancy eyed him warily as Geoffrey tugged on his hair, nodding. He said something in French, and Matthew pursed his lip, replying back to Chancy sharply. The blond quirked his brows before saying something else. "He said," Matthew started, turning his attention to the brit. "That he would prefer not to talk about that day." Arthur quirked his brows, not sure whether or not to air his dirty laundry. Whatever, he was feeling petty today.

"But you slapped Davie, I wanna know what it was about." At this, Matthew's jaw dropped as he looked at Chancy, obviously wanting to know what was up. He spoke to the frenchman in French, and Chancy's face contorted into one that was annoying, glaring daggers at Arthur. He spat some words out, and Mathew said some things again, and the two had a back and forth until the Frenchman raised his voice, Chancy sucking his teeth and walking away. "What was that about? We can't let him get too far." Arthur added, heading after his friend.

"He kept saying that it was none of our business. Apparently it was a touchy topic." Matthew said as he followed. Arthur managed to keep Chancy insight for the duration he was tailing him, and he was finally able to catch up when Chancy stopped and paused in front of a lamp post. Arthur frowned as more and more civilians began to stop and stare at the same lamp post, but Arthur wasn't close enough to see what the commotion was about. Eventually a woman let out a shrill cry, and Arthur was let through, heart dropping when he saw what was tied up against the pole.

It was a woman dressed in white whose dress was covered in holes and blood. She was tied up around the pole with dingey leather fastenings around her neck, hips, and ankles. Her face, along with body, had carvings etched into her forehead. Though she was covered in blood, it only took Arthur a moment to recognize her and let his tears brim his eyes.

He pushed further in through the crowd, brushing past Chancy, who had an almost terrified look on his face, and ran to the woman's side. He quickly checked for a pulse, pulling a napkin out of his pocket and wiping her face. How did she get out here?! Why is she here?! "Matthew, get help, now!" Her pulse was light, but it was still there. Arthur began to unfasten her when Chancy used his free hand to grab the back of his collar. Arthur, despite himself, couldn't resist the pull and landed on his butt about a yard away from the Woman. He read the carving on her forehead through the tears, it flipping from plain english to random triangles and squares. What was going on? Why her?

"Elizabeta?"

2 hours later...

Arthur pushed the wild curls away from baby Geoffrey's face, smiling as the baby smiled back at him. He allowed Chancy to caress him as they waited for their release, finding the other's companion priceless. Matthew was there too, talking to the public about how Elizabeta's murder would be investigated by the crown. Arthur seized up, his tears welling up. It was Allister who killed her, he knew, the threat being too personal to be written by anyone else.

We know where you are and how to find you.

Why did they kill their informant, because she was no longer useful? Because she betrayed them? But how did they get to the states before them? And how did they tie her up without anyone noticing? He let his tears fall once again. Her death was so gory, and he couldn't imagine the pain she was put through. The brit thought back to Roderich and the twins. They'll be in so much pain once they found out, and it'll all be Arthur's fault. If he hadn't come to the fortress, he would have never met Elizabeta and she would have never been put in that dungeon. She would have never met Allister. She would have not been displayed as disfigured as she was for all of New York to see.

Arthur cringed at the thought of Allister and his brothers. They were sadistic. Just how far were they willing to go to get Arthur back? Would they do this again? But to who? The Englishman looked down at the baby in his hands, his friend by his side and his mate, and the frog, and Davie, and Matthew... If anything were to happen to them... Arthur wiped his eyes gently. He considered them a quirky family, and he loved them all now. He can't let his brothers hurt the people he loved, and sure he didn't leave on the best terms with Elizabeta, but Arthur knew she truly cared about him, and he wished he could have told her he had forgiven her. He wish he could have told her he did love her.

But now he has to think of a way to save his friends. He is in no way capable enough to fight them off, his only ability was omnilingualism, and the bad feeling he occasionally got. He could perhaps learn, but from who? The only way to protect his family would be to go along with them, to separate from his mate and return to England. But how? Alfred would never let that happen, and Arthur doubted his ability to lie in his face. He was stumped and useless. His existence only proving to be deadly to those around him. When was he going to be let out, he answered all of their questions already.

The officer walked into the grey holding cell and sat down across the trio. He took a sip of his coffee before clearing his voice. "I'm sorry to hear about your friend, I'm truly sorry for your loss." Arthur, with the best American Accent he could muster, thanked the officer, and asked when he would be released. "Right about now actually. If you would follow me, I'll guide you to your mate." Arthur sighed in relief. He had been here for hours writing personal statements and answering questions about who would or could do this. No regular police force ignorant to the supernatural could actually solve this case, Arthur knew. He just wanted to be with Alfred, who he could sense was close by. Arthur handed Geoffrey back to Chancy as they walked, figuring he had hogged him enough. They walked down the hall of the police precinct where the brit swore he could hear the prince yelling.

"Where the hell are our mates? Release them now!" Arthur walked into the lobby to a very angry Davie and Alfred growling at the male officer at the front desk.

"Y-your h-highness, please, they'll be released soon, I swear" He looked terrified, but the two knights looked as if they about ready to kill him. The officer's eyes darted around until his eyes made contact with Arthur. "There they are!" He said frantically, pointing at the newly released omegas. The alphas were on them in seconds, Arthur breathing in the ocean breeze and metallic smell of his mate. Alfred began to scnt him, in front of everyone, and Arthur could see the other officers look away. Arthur looked to his right and saw that Davie was doing the same to Chancy, taking Geoffrey into his arms and scenting him too.

"Let's go" Alfred ordered once he pulled away. "We found an inn with enough rooms for us. We'll talk about what happened when we get there, okay?" He held Arthur's hand in his as he led them out of the police house, Arthur following behind stiffly. What if they attack again? Who will it be? Arthur swallowed harshly and kept walking, linking elbows with the prince for security. He didn't look back, but he could hear Davie talking to Chancy in broken French, so the others were close behind. Arthur walked for what felt like 15 minutes before he finally saw the building they were going too. It looked more like a mansion, than an inn, but if Alfred was sure this was the place then who was Arthur to question.

When they got to the front door of the inn, a door pulled it open and smiled politely at the guests. Once in, Arthur could see how spacious and elegant it look, white pillows on white sofas on white carpets next to black curtains. The ceiling was impossibly high, dozens of chandeliers everywhere. There was an open bar, women and men having drinks and cheering, flirting with each other. Arthur made contact with Francis, who was taking a long sip of wine as he talked with his mate. The king alerted his mate of their arrival, and Matthew waved to them, motioning for them to come over. They were seated in a large circle booth away from the loud bar. The couples slid in, Chancy saying something in French that made the king stare at him for a little while before laughing, saying something back. Chancy ignored him though, resting his head on Davie's shoulder, allowing the child to touch his face.

"Seriously my friend, if you have to keep making sure none of your subordinates are around in order for you to cuddle your mate I'm going to sack you." He mumbled as he took another sip of his wine. Arthur bit his lip, feeling a little famished.

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" Alfred asked, and Francis shrugged.

"I'm an alcoholic, what do you expect?" He retorted, and Arthur looked up at his, dare he say, friend. He was an alcoholic? Really? "I'm kidding caterpillar brow, relax." Arthur visually calmed, and the king chuckled. "But I appreciate your concern." Arthur only sighed in response, resting his head on the table.

"What does a guy need to do to get a drink around here?" he groaned, running his hands through his hair.